Bits and Pieces
by Jaenelle Angelline
Summary: Some short stories looking into the lives of the XMen, set during the 'Where The Heart Is' trilogy. FINISHED. Read, review please! Thank you!
1. Default Chapter

Title:         The Next Room

Summary: Logan and Jubilee have a little trouble getting to sleep in the room beside Scott and Jean's. So they 

                   decide to do something about it…

Warnings: References to intimate activity. Some raunchy humor. Nothing violent, or nasty. 

Rating:       PG-13, for adult (slightly!) humor.

Setting:      Between Chapters One and Two of 'No Greater Love'.

Characters: Scott/Jean, Logan/Jubilee

The Next Room 

                Logan grabbed the remote, switched off the TV, closed his eyes. Beside him, Jubilee groaned, rubbed her eyes, and curled up next to him. He tucked an arm around her, and she nestled against his body as she started to drift into sleep.

                A loud groan filled the room.

                Jubilee opened one eye. "Logan? That you?"

                "Nope." 

Jubilee sat up as the groan came again. "What the heck is that?"

Logan opened an eye as he heard a soft feminine giggle. "That ain't you, so that mus' be Scarlett and Rhett in the next room."

Jubilee giggled as she lay back down beside him. The giggle turned into a groan as the sound of a female whimper reached their ears. "Jean can't keep her blasted mouth shut?" Logan growled. "Jubes, I think we made a mistake when we moved inta this room."

"We needed the extra space, Logan," Jubilee pointed out, so reasonably Logan wanted to smack her. He wouldn't normally be this much on the edge, but the sounds coming from the next room and the fact that his own hormones were now raging, plus the knowledge that there wasn't anything Jubilee could do about it were driving him nuts. Jubilee didn't like getting physical during her cranky week.

"There's gotta be something we can do," he growled. "Damn. There goes my sleep."

"Want me to take your mind off it, Logan?" Jubilee whispered into his ear, her hands coming up under the covers to caress him. 

He shook his head. "Ain't the same, darlin'," he said. "Ask me that again when ya stop bein' so cranky."

Jubilee flopped back against the bed pillows as they both heard Jean exclaim "Scott!" from the next room. Scott followed it up with a low groan, and then they heard the other bed bump against the wall gently as its occupants shifted positions. Jubilee pulled her pillow over her head and burrowed under the covers as Logan got up. 

"Where are you going?" she perked up.

"Gonna go find somewhere quieter ta sleep, darlin'," he grumped, pulling up his pants and yanking a shirt over his head. She sprang out of bed, tucked her pillow under her arm, and followed him out of their room. Logan stopped to give the door of Jean and Scott's room a poisonous glare before he stumped off down the stairs.

*                                                                              *                                                                              *

                Jean looked somewhat surprised when she passed through the informal living room the next morning and saw Jubilee and Logan sprawled out on the sofabed there. Logan, sensing the presence of someone else in the room, opened one eye. He growled grumpily when he saw who it was.

                "Something wrong with your bed, Logan?" Jean asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

                Logan growled and flung back the covers, startling Jubilee awake as he got up and stomped off. Jean looked in surprise at Jubilee. "What's wrong with Logan?"

                Jubilee bundled her pillow and blanket up, closed up the sofabed, and brushed past Jean without a word. Jean watched her pass, mystified.

                She continued on her way into the kitchen, where she saw Remy and Ororo sitting at the table, reading something in the morning paper and drinking coffee. "Good morning," she said cheerfully to them. "Anyone got an idea what's wrong with Logan and Jubilee?"

                Ororo raised her eyes over the rim of her cup. Remy buried his face in the paper. Neither one said a word. Somewhat miffed, Jean left the kitchen grumbling.

                Ororo looked at Remy, who was trying desperately not to laugh. "Remy," she said severely, "This is not funny."

                Remy spluttered on a mouthful of coffee. "Yes, it is, p'tite," he choked. "I tol' Logan an' Jubes dey shouldn' move int' de room righ' nex' to Scott an' Jean. It's dey own fault dey didn' get sleep las' night."

                Ororo continued to look severely at him, and he shrugged, wiping coffee from the side of his mouth with a napkin. "Hey, I didn' see you tellin' dem what roomin' next to Jean an' Scott were like," he said. "It used to be your room, 'f I remember correctly. You had problems sleepin', too."

                "Jean is my friend. I could not tell her that her private affairs were intruding on my…privacy. And at least she did shield after the first few times I sent the thunderstorm into her room."

                "_Oui, chere,_ but Remy t'ink maybe she didn' shield her scent so well, neh? Logan smell her from de room, all right. An' he certainly hear her making soun's even if she did shield telepat'ically."

                Jubilee came in at just that moment, went straight to the coffeemaker, inspected the last inch or so of coffee in the pot, and picked it up. Lifting the lid, she drank down the hot coffee in only a few gulps. Logan walked into the kitchen wearing only an old pair of sweatpants, saw her standing there with the coffeepot raised to her lips, and growled, "Ya better be plannin' on makin' another pot o' coffee, Jubes, or I ain't speakin' ta ya the rest of the day." 

                "Keep your pants on, Logan," she growled back. "I was just going to." She rinsed the pot at the sink and set the coffeemaker as Logan stood behind her with his arms crossed. He grabbed a coffee cup and held it under the drip spout as soon as the coffee started to come out. When he had his cup full he withdrew the cup, smiling at Jubilee's annoyed look, and went to sit down. Ororo and Remy looked at him with wide, innocent eyes as Jubilee joined him.

                "You," Logan stabbed a finger at Remy. "You used ta have the room Jubes an' I moved inta las' night. Why didn' ya warn us 'bout the noise pollution next door?"

                Remy widened his eyes in mock innocence. _"Moi,_ warn you,_ homme?_ What you need dis Cajun to warn you 'bout? You handle everything, _neh_?"

                Logan tried to look stern. It wasn't easy, given the wild bed head and bleary eyes. Ororo tried to smother a chuckle, but failed, and Jubilee pinned her with a glare. 

                "It's not funny, Ororo!" Jubilee growled. "We may have to consider sleeping in the living room permanently if we can't figure out how to deal with the…noise."

                "Ain't like you an' de p'tite be all dat quiet neit'er," Remy snickered. Logan growled, stood up. Remy put his coffee cup down warily, looked at Logan's bristling stance, and fled the kitchen. Logan sat back down, grabbed Remy's section of the paper, and pretended to read it as Ororo and Jubilee talked.

                "'Ro, please," Jubilee pleaded. "How did you manage it?"

                Ororo put her cup of coffee down. "When Jean and Scott became too…enthusiastic…I sent a small rainstorm into their room," she said smugly. "They got the idea after a few nights of getting up to change their sheets at midnight."

                Jubilee giggled. "Cool. That'll work. Want to come to our room tonight and do it again?"

                "Absolutely not," Ororo said, thinking about the last time she'd done it. Jean hadn't stopped yelling at her for an hour. "It is not my problem, Jubilee. You must find your own solution."

                "But I can't exactly tell them that they're disturbing our sleep!" Jubilee wailed. "Please, Ororo, you have to help us!"

                Ororo put her cup in the sink. "Use your imagination, child," she said. 

                Jubilee wandered out of the kitchen and ran into Bobby sitting in the Rec Room eating cereal and watching TV. "Hey, Bobby," she said, plopping down on the couch beside him, "What do you do when a bratty sibling gets on your nerves?"

                Bobby' shrugged. "Give them a taste of their own medicine," he said, never taking his eyes off the screen.

                "But how do I do that to…" Jubilee's eyes lit up. "I got it! Bobby, you're the greatest!" She hugged him so hard his spine creaked, then bounced off the couch and ran out of the room. Bobby blinked, turning away from the TV for the first time. "What'd I say…Jubes?" He looked around. There was no one in the room. He shrugged and returned his attention to the TV.

*                                                                              *                                                                              *

                Jubilee finished brushing her hair, put down her hairbrush, and listened. Logan sat moodily on their bed, switching channels, and she grabbed the remote and turned the TV off.

                "Jubes, what…" he started, but she put a finger to her lips and hushed him. Seconds later, they heard giggling and whispers in the hall, and Scott and Jean's footsteps passed their door on their way into their room. There was the sound of the door closing, and silence. Logan growled, and started to get up, but Jubilee giggled, pulled him back down beside her on the bed and whispered, "You're not going anywhere. I need you for this."

                "Jubes," he growled, but subsided and sat down.

                The toilet in Jean and Scott's bathroom flushed, and seconds later, Logan's sensitive hearing picked up the _squeak_ of bedsprings as they got into bed. For about ten minutes all was quiet, and Logan dared to hope that maybe the couple were going to go straight to sleep. Then…_squeak._ A breathless moan.

He groaned and tried to bury his head in the pillows.

                Another moan, slightly higher in pitch. "Scott…" came a not-so-silent whisper.

                "Jean…" Again not so silent.

                _Squeak. _Moan._ Squeak._ Then a steady, rhythmic_ thump, thump, thump_. Logan growled, grabbed his pillow, and got off the bed. His hand was resting on the doorknob when he heard Jubilee groan. He turned to her, staring in disbelief.

                Her blue eyes were dancing mischievously. As he watched, she let out another moan, this time with a breathless catch to the end of it. There was silence from the next room for a moment, then a soft whisper. Then there was another of Jean's high-pitched moans. Jubilee let out one of her own, louder this time. _Really_ loud.

                Loud enough to be heard in the other room.

                Logan buried his face in the pillow he held so Jean and Scott wouldn't hear him laughing. Jubilee buried her face in the blankets and giggled hysterically. This was even better, because their bed now bumped gently against the wall. She got herself sufficiently under control to moan again…and this time added a "Logan…oh, Logan!"

                He fell on the bed, feeling as though he would have to laugh or his lungs would burst. The sounds from the next room stopped abruptly. Jubilee nudged him, wiggled her eyebrows at him, and said telepathically, **So say something, already!**

                He cleared his throat, tried for a breathy moan. It came out as a croak. He tried again, and got better results this time. A raspy, breathy, growl rumbled through the room. He added her name, just for good measure. "Jubes…Oh, darlin'!"

*                                                                              *                                                                              *

                Jean was just getting lost in the moment when Scott stopped. She sat up as he cocked his head. "Scott? What is it?" she asked.

                "Did you hear that?" he asked her. 

                She tilted her own head, listening to the sounds of the mansion around her. "I don't hear anything. Come on." They resumed their activities.

                Moments later, there was another sound. This time Jean heard it too. They both paused, and in the silence they clearly herd Jubilee say "Logan! Oh, Logan…" and then there was a gentle thump of the bed against the wall as the occupants of the other room started messing around in their bed.

                Scott rolled off Jean, staring annoyed at the wall, on the other side of which Logan and Jubilee were apparently going about their business with a great deal of gusto. He made a sound of frustration and disgust, and slumped back into the pillows. "Why can't they be more quiet?"

                Jean tilted her head. Odd, but she wasn't feeling anything from the other room. She reached out with her telepathy, and touched Logan's mind. She didn't sense lust. It was…merriment?

                Jubilee's mind was in a similar state. And Jean wanted to laugh with them, scream at them, and throw something, all at once. They weren't even dressed for bed yet. They were doing it deliberately to throw her and Scott off so they could get some sleep.

                She suppressed a giggle. So that was their game. She slipped under the covers, feeling a bit guilty about the amount of noise they'd been making. She and Scott had been so used to having empty rooms around them that they'd forgotten the lesson Ororo had taught them long ago with lightning shocks and soaked sheets. She'd apologize to Logan and Jubilee the next morning.

                Scott looked at her in annoyance. "How can you sleep with all that noise going on next door?" he snapped. He didn't settle down, even when she telekinetically lifted the covers over him and twitched a pillow into place.

                "Go to sleep, Scott," she said, settling into her side of the bed. "I'll talk to Jubes in the morning."

                "Jubes! Oh, darlin'," Logan said. Scott turned red. Jean opened one eye, looked at him. He really was cute when he got mad.

                He grabbed the book Jean had been reading from her nightstand and flung it at the wall. Jean 'heard' the laughter pick up in Jubilee's mind, and fought the urge to laugh herself. An urge that she only half-suppressed. A small chuckle escaped her lips as she said, "They're just doing it to annoy you, Scott. Go to sleep." And she slipped into his mind and telepathically knocked him out.

*                                                                              *                                                                              *

                Logan paused, listening. He could hear nothing but even breathing. "Looks like we disrupted their fun fer tonight, Jubes." 

                Sh grinned triumphantly. "We'll probably get an earful from them tomorrow morning, but at least we'll get a good night's sleep," she giggled as she pulled the blankets over her. Loga got back into the bed beside her, and she was almost asleep when he said quietly, "Jubes?"

                "Mmm?"

                "That was clever. How'd you think of that?"

                She giggled sleepily. "Something Bobby said. I asked him earlier how he would get a bratty sibling off one's tail, and he said to 'give him a touch of his own medicine'." She giggled, tucked herself under his arm. "Worked, didn't it? It stopped them."

                "Yeah," Logan said, pulling her body tight against his. "Clever. I love ya, Jubes."

                "I love you too, Logan."


	2. Double Date

Title:           Double Date

Summary:   Logan and Jubilee go on a double date with Remy and his girlfriend. Silliness ensues!

Warnings:  Get ready to laugh! 

Rating:        G-general humor

Characters: Logan/Jubilee, Remy/original character

Double Date

                Jean walked into the Rec Room, where Logan was sprawled out on the couch, flipping channels. "Nothing on?" she teased lightly, settling down on the arm of the sofa.

                "Nah. Nothin' but blasted cartoons." He continued to flip channels.

                She giggled. "What else do you expect? It's a Saturday morning!" She looked around. "Where's Jubilee?"

                "Sleepin' off last night," he said.

                Jean crossed her arms. "That reminds me, when are you going to take her out on a real date?"

                "Huh?" he squinted at her. "We go out plenty, Jean."

                "Not to a bar, Logan," Jean sat down on the coffee table in front of him. "To a restaurant, or to a movie. Or both. A real date, not just a bar crawl." 

                "Jubes didn' say she wanted to go out anywhere."

                "Well, she may not have said so, but she might like to. She just knows that it's not your thing. Think about it, Logan." Jean got up and left.

                Logan did think about it. Maybe he should take Jubilee out on a 'date', but the thought made him growl. Where would he take her, what would they do,  and how in the heck was he supposed to figure out what she would like if she didn't tell him? He growled again.

                "Something wrong, _mon ami_?" came a Louisiana drawl form the doorway. Logan turned, to see Remy  walking into the room.

                "Yeah. Jean jus' asked me why I ain't taken Jubes out on a date yet."

                Remy grinned. "Oh, so dat what de p'tite talking 'bout yesterday."

                "Huh?" Logan turned to look at the Cajun.

                "Jubilee look all wistful yesterday when Remy say he taking Elise out on a date. Jubilee say 'wish he did sometimes' when she t'ink Remy not listening. Betcha dat 'he' was you."

                "Why didn't she tell me that, blast her?" Logan grumbled.

                "Women be like dat, Logan. You got to figure out what dey want, or dey get upset wit' you."

                "I don't want Jubes upset with me," Logan grumped. "So where do I take her, an' what do I do?"

                "Start wit' somet'ing she like. Any movie she want to go see dat's playing right now?"

                "Well, she said she wants ta go see the new Terminator flick. And I could probably sit through it, too."

                "So call de theatre and fin' out what time de movie start. After it finish, take her out to a nice restaurant. An' not McDonalds, Logan. Jubilee tell me you an' her go out to fast-food place most o' de time. Take her somewhere nice."

                "Like where?"

                "Well, Elise an' I go to Marcello's often. Or maybe Sunset. Bot' places got nice food, an' dere's a bar inside where you can get drinks. Hey, Logan, I got an idea. Remy be taking Elise on a date tonight. Why don' we make it a double an' meet at Marcello's?"

                "Sounds good to me," Logan said agreeably. "You got to go pick up yer dancer girlfriend, right? So how 'bout Jubes an' I meet ya at the restaurant?"

                "Works for me," Remy said agreeably.

*                                                                              *                                                                              *

                Jubilee raised her eyebrow when Logan told her not to eat too much at dinner, but didn't protest. When they went up to their room afterward, He said. "Fin' something' nice ta wear, Jubes."

                "Like what?" she said suspiciously.

                "Well…Gumbo an' I were talkin' earlier, an' he said he an' his girl'd like some company tonight. So I thought you an' me'd go with them if you don' t have any objections."

                "A date?" Jubilee looked incredulous. "I didn't think you were the type!"

                He shrugged, trying not to look uncomfortable. "Gumbo heard ya say ya wished I'd take ya out on a date. I figured it was the least I could do ta make ya happy."

                Jubilee's eyes brightened. "Sure! I'd love to! Where are we going?"

                "Marcello's fer dinner first, then ta a movie. I dunno what Remy's got planned, but I'm sure we'll enjoy it." 

                Jubilee grinned, and disappeared ino their walk-in closet as Logan went into the bathroom to shave and dress. As a result, when he got out he was taken completely by surprise. 

                Jubilee was wearing a slinky black dress that was cut low over her breasts and high over her knees. He swallowed several times, hard, before he found his voice. "Jubes, maybe ya better not wear that dress," he said.

                "Why?" Jubilee looked at the dress quickly, front and back, checking for spots. "Is it dirty?"

                "No. But it ain't gonna stay clean cause I ain't gonna be able ta  keep my hands offa ya."

                Jubilee's eyes crinkled at the corners in a smile. Damn, he loved that smile. He had to keep his eyes on that smile. Had to. If he didn't, he'd be looking at that valley between her breasts all evening…

                Jubilee turned back to the mirror to apply her lipstick, and Logan groaned aloud. The valley between her breasts was replaced by a view of her backside, tightly wrapped and encased in black stretch fabric. He wanted to touch that backside…

                She saw his look in the mirror, giggled, and deftly moved her body out of his reach. "Think of it as a challenge, Logan," she grinned. "Betcha you can't keep your hands off me the whole evening."

                "I'm gonna lose," Logan groaned. "Darlin', ain't no way I'm gonna be able ta keep my hands offa you, the way ya look right now."

                She giggled, opened the room door and walked out, Logan following.

                The restaurant parking lot was crowded, but not overly so. Remy pulled up in his pickup with Elise in the front just a few minutes after Jubilee and Logan parked in Jubilee's car. "Hey, Elise," Jubilee greeted the other woman. She again had to suppress the little streak of envy she felt whenever she saw her. Elise Maron was a classically trained ballerina, with an extraordinarily graceful way of moving. Jubilee wished she had been gifted with that kind of grace; she always felt awkward and coltish next to the ballerina.

                Elise hugged Jubilee, then took Remy's arm. Jubilee took Logan's, and they all went into the restaurant. The wait staff evidently knew Remy and Elise; the hostess gave all four of them a friendly smile and escorted them right to a table. They sat down, made themselves comfortable, and looked at the menu. Elise ordered a low-fat grilled chicken with a Caesar salad on the side; Remy ordered the prime rib and baked potatoes. Logan chose the steak; and Jubilee, looking at the salad and chicken Elise ordered, decided she would order the salmon filet and Italian salad, even though she really wanted to order the steak. 

                "Any wine?" the waitress asked. "We have a lovely white Zinfandel as our special tonight."

Elise declined the wine; too many calories. Jubilee badly wanted to order a beer, but when Remy ordered the white wine, and Logan did too, she did the same. Elise sipped ice water throughout the dinner as she talked to them at length about her training, her newest ballet, and her life touring. Remy hung on every word; Logan, Jubilee noted with amusement, dug into his steak, mumbled monosyllabic answers at all the pauses in the conversation, and basically let most of the conversation run over his head. Jubilee nodded, tried to look polite, and laughed politely at what she felt appropriate intervals. Remy was hanging rather obviously on her every word, and Jubilee knew she was going to have fun laughing at him to Logan later.

                "How has your dinner been?" the waitress asked cheerfully as she collected the empty plates. "Anyone ready for desert?"

                "Uh, yes," Elise said. 'I really need to watch my weight, though; do you have anything light, or low calorie?"

                "We do have a lime sorbet," the waitress said helpfully. "And we do have a light vanilla ice cream."

                "I'll take the sorbet," Elise said.

Jubilee, tired of being polite, looked at the menu and ordered what she really wanted; a slice of vanilla ice cream cake with a rich chocolate fudge sauce and lots of whipped cream and chopped nuts. Elise looked disapprovingly. "You know, that's a lot of calories," she said politely. Jubilee barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes and instead dug her spoon into the dessert with great relish. It was the best part of her evening so far; made better by the sight of Elise looking positively envious at the chocolate. Remy gave Jubilee a sidelong look, and Logan barely stifled a grin.

                They emerged from the restaurant with their hunger mostly satisfied, and discussed which movie to see. Elise wanted to see the new romantic comedy with her favorite actor in it; Logan and Jubilee wanted to see the new Terminator. Remy sided with Elise. Jubilee and Logan reluctantly agreed to go with them. The other couple got into Remy's pickup; Jubilee and Logan got into her car.

                "Oh, my god," Jubilee rolled her eyes once they were on the road. "I don't know what he sees in her! It's all about her. Her weight, her dancing, her life! When does he get a word in edgewise?"

                "I dunno," Logan said gloomily.

                They paid for their tickets, and went to find their seats. Jubilee bought herself and Logan a jumbo popcorn and a big soda; then splurged and got a huge box of sour gummy candy. She sat down in the seat, grimly determined to sit out the movie. "Maybe it won't be that bad," she whispered to Logan.

                It _was_ that bad. Jubilee found her eyelids drifting closed only about a half-hour into the movie. She stared at Remy's head where it lay on Elise's shoulder. Oh, she was going to kill him…he knew she and Logan didn't like these kinds of movies…

                A piece of popcorn hit the back of Remy's head. She looked at Logan in surprise; he was all set to hurl another one. She looked disapprovingly at him, and shook her head. He lookd back at her, and she saw the gleam in his eye as he handed her a piece of popcorn. She took it, was about to pop it in her mouth, when another piece hit Remy's head.  Jubilee clutched her sides laughing, took another piece of popcorn, and threw it at Remy. It missed. Logan made a face at her, threw another one. This one made the target. Jubilee tried again, with better results this time. They started taking turns.

He went on watching with Elise, blissfully oblivious of the fact that his head was being used as a target. Logan and Jubilee ignored the rest of the movie; aiming for Remy's head was much more fun.

When the movie ended and the house lights went up, Remy and Elise turned around to look at their fellow couple. Elise stared in dismay at the pieces of popcorn littering the floor. "Look at the mess!" she exclaimed. "What happened?"

Jubilee grinned unrepentantly. "Spilled my popcorn," she said. Logan tried very hard to keep a straight face, but Jubilee saw his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter as Elise and Remy led the way out of the theater.

"Remy have to take Elise home," Remy said. "We all had a good time, _non_?"

"Oh yes," Jubilee said, "We had a lovely time. We especially loved the movie. Didn't we, Logan?"

"Oh, yeah. The movie was great." Remy missed the sarcastic note in Logan's voice. Jubilee hugged Elise goodbye, and she and Logan watched as Remy took her arm and led her off toward the truck. 

Just before they were out of earshot, they heard Elise murmur, "Remy, you smell like popcorn, I could just eat you up…mmm…"

They barely made it into Jubilee's car before they exploded in laughter. "Oh my God," Jubilee wiped her streaming eyes. "Logan, good lord, that was a hell of a date!" She straightened up. "With the exception of Remy's girl. I don't know how he puts up with her. Logan, if you ever want to take me out on a date again, feel free…just do me a favor, huh?"

"What's that, darlin'?"

"Don't invite Remy and Elise!"

"Never again, darlin'," Logan crushed her in a hug. "Never again. Now let's get home."


	3. Bad Dreams

Title:           Bad Dreams Summary:   Logan's and Jubilee's thoughts after she has another nightmare. Warnings:  References to graphic violence; and it's kind of sad Rating:        PG-13 Setting:       After Chapter 5 of 'Where The Heart Is' 

Characters: Logan/Jubilee

Bad Dreams 

                I'm a light sleeper. The faintest noise wakes me up. 

                What woke me this time was a low whimper. Jubilee. I roll over, lookin' at her lyin' in bed beside me. Her eyes are squeezed shut; her lips are slightly parted, and comin' from 'em is the sound that woke me up. Another dream, then.

                God, I hate these dreams she has. I wonder if she knows how much it hurts, lyin' here watchin' her struggle through another nightmare. She's so strong during the day, so tough, sassy, brave, an' beautiful. I love her like that. Then she gets inta bed at night, an' she falls apart. Not quite as often these days, since Chuck and Jeannie went inta her head and did…whatever they did ta her mind…but she still has 'em, an' it hurts me just watchin' 'er. She knows when she's gonna have the dreams, too…she's a bit more hesitant 'bout goin' ta bed alone, an' when I let her she does her damn level best ta drink herself inta a stupor 'fore we get home. But it don't chase off the nightmares; she just don't remember 'em in the mornin'.

                I hate that scared look she gets in her eyes when she gets inta bed beside me on a night when she's expectin' ta have one o' these nightmares. She's rarely wrong, either. Our lovemakin' on those nights is desperate, more frantic, than it is on those days when she knows she aiun't gonna have 'em. An' it takes her longer ta get ta sleep afterward. Then I wake up in the middle o' the night like this, ta hear her moan.

                She's cryin' now, silver tears falling down her pretty face. I reach out gently, ta brush that tear away, but more fall, faster'n I can dry them from her face. I give up. I sit up, cross-legged, on the bed, knowing from too many nights o' doin' this that now ain't the time ta touch her. Fer some reason, touchin' her during the early part o' the dream causes it ta escalate out o' control. I learned that early on, when I made the mistake o' tryin' ta wake her 'fore the dream ended.

                It was weeks ago. We were still in separate rooms, but I told her ta come sleep with me if she thought she was goin' ta have the dreams. So she did. When she made that first sound, I tried ta wake her up, touchin' her back gently. Big mistake. She shot off 'cross the bed, away from me, an' hit the floor on her side o' the bed. Hard. Headfirst. She didn't even wake, she didn't get up offa the floor. I don' think she even knew she was on it. She jus' curled up in the corner there like a whipped puppy and cried. I hated seein' her cringe like that. She is my girl, my Jubes. She ain't no one's whipped puppy. I tried again ta wake her, ta get her back inta bed. She screamed out in her sleep, arched like she was in pain, an' began ta talk. Every word hit me like a slap in the face.

                "No…Bastion…no, no, please, I'm just a kid…" she'd said. I could hear the pain in her voice. "Please don't…I never did anything to you…why do you hate me?…please leave me alone…" Her voice climbed another octave. "No, don't, not that…please not that…Bastion…please…I'm a virgin…please…"

                An' that's another thing that I hate even thinkin' 'bout. Jubilee's first time wasn't with someone she knew. It wasn't with someone she liked. Nah, her first time was on a cold cement floor with someone she couldn't stand, someone who hurt the hell outta her. I'm a naturally possessive person; I hate anyone touchin' what's mine. But I think I could'a borne it if it'd been with some college boy she dated, or some friend. 

                It wasn't with any of them; it was with someone who hurt her worse than anyone's ever hurt her b'fore. Durin' some'a the more violent nightmares she's had o' being raped and tortured by Bastion, I seen her double over and grab her stomach. I ain't a girl; I dunno what it feels like ta have somethin' enter me that way. But it's got ta be agonizin', the way her face looks. She knows, on some level, that she shouldn't scream; I seen her bite down on 'er knuckles in the middle o' her dreams ta keep the screams that fill her mind from 'scapin' her lips. She always looks embarrassed when she wakes up in the mornin' and there's blood on the sheets 'cause she's broken the skin on her knuckles bitin' 'em. The first time I tried ta talk 'bout it, she brushed me off. She don't wanna talk 'bout it. So I just take her ta the bathroom now an' wash her hands, wrap bandages around the fist she's abused, an' kiss her. I think she understands what I'm tryin' ta say; I don't have ta say it. She knows.

                There. The first part o' the dream's over; she's not as tense. This is the time she spent waitin' for someone ta come check up on her in her cell. She's bruised, in pain, and bewildered. Maybe, if I'm lucky, the dream'll go 'way now, stop 'fore it escalates ta the parts I hate.

                No such luck. Jubilee suddenly tenses. Her head whips over to her left. Bastion's just walked inta her cell and slapped her. Jubilee's hand goes ta her cheek, even though there ain't nothin' there anymore. Then her head jerks off ta the right. She curls up in a tight ball, moanin'. Then her body flips over, her arms reachin' up over her head ta grab the rails o' the bed. Her knuckles turn white as she grips 'em. She ain't strong enough ta dent 'em, o' course, but it's not fer lack o' tryin'. Her back arches, an' a strangled moan 'scapes her lips. She grimaces, an' then her body arches again. Bastion is whippin' her. She continues on like that fer a long time, archin' in pain, her mouth open in a scream that's somehow all the harder ta watch 'cause it's silent. Her body twists. I'm glad I'm awake. If I wasn't, I'd be cold by now 'cause all the blankets are twisted 'round her legs.

                Finally it stops. Now comes the hard part; where Bastion's violatin' her. I hate watchin' this. I turn away, but I seen it too many times. Even if I close my eyes, I can still see it. Jubilee's thighs open, fast, as though they been pulled apart. Then she spasms. I see her stomach muscles ripplin' under the thin shirt she wore ta bed. Her hands ball inta fists, an' she shoves 'em 'tween her knees as she whimpers. Then her hands fly back 'bove her head. She cries out, once, sharply, as the Bastion in her dream enters her body. This is the only sound she permits herself through the whole damn dream. She shakes. Every muscle in her body tenses. Her teeth bite inta her knuckles again, drawin' blood. Then as suddenly as it all started, it stops. She relaxes. Bastion's gone.

                She curls up. Now she allows herself ta cry. She's still silent, though her shoulders shake. 

                I can touch her now. She'll actually welcome it. I untangle the sheet and blanket from 'round her legs, then lie down behind her, pullin' her close ta me. Her shirt's damp with sweat; it soaks the front o' my shirt as I curl up 'gainst her back an' stroke her hair. Tears fall silently from her closed eyes. I hush her, whisperin' her name and mine in her ear, over an' over again. Fer some reason, hearin' my voice say my own name calms her. After 'bout five minutes o' cryin', she stops. Her eyes open, an' the first thing she sees is me. I do that on purpose; if she wakes and don't see me right 'way, she panics. Her breathin' gradually slows down. "Another dream?" she asks weakly. I nod silently.

                We get up and head off ta the bathroom. She washes her face while I open the cabinet an' take out what I need. She sits on the counter as I clean her raw, bleedin' knuckles, drawin' her breath in sharply as she feels the sting o' the antiseptic. It's over quickly. I wrap a reusable white bandage over the cuts, an' we go back ta bed. Now, knowin' she's okay, I can go back ta sleep. Jubes never has two o' these dreams in one night.

She's still tucked 'gainst me as I drift off.

*                                                                              *

                I lie awake, pretending to be asleep, until I hear his even breathing. When I'm sure he's asleep, I slip into his mind telepathically and keep him asleep as I slide out of bed. I cross the room to the faded blue easy chair I'd had in my room before, as a teenager. It brings back memories, happier ones than the ones I dream about.

                I look at him. He loves me so much. And I love him. I wonder sometimes if he has any idea how much. He's so patient, putting up with my dreams and with the memories locked away inside my head. He's a light sleeper; I know he's sat awake for at least the last half hour, watching over me while I slept. 

                I draw my knees up to my chest and hug them as my tears fall silently down my cheek. My stomach hurts; I know it's because I was tensing up again, and it's ghost pain from a long time ago. My knuckles throb again, and I look down at the stiff white bandage wrapped around them. The cut on the back of my middle knuckle is still bleeding; there's a tiny red spot in the middle of the white stuff.

                Blood. I wince. I hate seeing my blood. Funny. It didn't used to be a problem for me…until Bastion. I had to live in that cell. I couldn't bear the sight and smell of my own blood on the floor. I remember being forced to clean the floor, on my hands and knees, sobbing as Bastion's guards 'encourage' me with various kinds of physical abuse. I remember thinking I was in hell then…and then waking up back here, at home, and wondering for a moment if I'd died and gone to heaven. I didn't know, then, that true heaven was being in Logan's arms. That realization didn't come until later. 

                He sighs in his sleep, turns over. I look at the smooth, firm muscles under the warm skin, and have to resist the urge to walk over there and touch him. If I do, he'll wake up. He never complains about waking up in the middle of the night for me, for my nightmares. Sometimes I wonder if it bothers him; it must, but he never says anything. I feel bad every time I wake up from a nightmare to find him awake. He needs his sleep.

                I feel guilty. I hate hurting him like this. I didn't want him to know what I go through. It was Jean's fault for dragging him into the link with her when she and the Professor did what I asked them to do in my head. I got so upset with her. I didn't want Logan to know what I went through at Bastion's hands. I knew it would hurt him, and he has too much pain of his own to carry mine around, too. Jean tried to tell me he doesn't mind, that it actually makes him feel better to carry some of my burdens for me, but I still feel guilty for dropping some of my burdens on him. And on Jean, and the Professor. They saw what I try so hard not to let anyone know about. 

                So I don't tell anyone about the pain deep inside me when I have a particularly bad time of month. I don't tell Logan that when it gets cold the place where my ribs were broken twice aches like crazy. I don't tell Hank when my fractured kneecap twinges when it rains. I don't tell Jean about the walls I build around my mind when I'm awake, like the Professor builds walls around the pain in his spine so he doesn't feel it most of the time. I can't tell anyone. I don't want to hurt the people I love by telling them, showing them, what I felt, what I went through; Logan least of all, because he feels terribly guilty about not being there for me when I need him. He blames himself. He says he should have known.

                But how could he? I wasn't with the X-Men; I was attending the Massachusetts Academy. We don't have a bond, like Jean has with Scott; he has no way of knowing when I'm in trouble. He took it so hard; he acted like it was all his fault. There's a tiny, selfish part of me that is upset that he wasn't there…but it's not a rational thought, and I know it. So I bury it, along with all my pain, all my anger, all my misery, because I don't want to see it, and I figure no one else wants to see it either. If I bury it inside, maybe someday it will go away, and I'll be free of it all.

                Until then, I might as well get some sleep. I climb out of my chair, ease onto the bed beside Logan. We both like firm mattresses; it makes it easier to slide in and out of bed without waking the other. He does wake, though. "Go back to sleep," I tell him, whispering quietly into his ear. "I just got up for a moment." He responds with a grunt, rolling over and catching me in his arms. He nuzzles my neck for a moment, his rough whisker stubble abrading my neck and making me giggle, then goes back to sleep with a smile on his face. I touch his face gently, looking at the strong planes, the angles and lines of his features, slowly smooth out as he slips back into sleep. I smile. I love him.

                I drift off to sleep, a smile on my face.


	4. Scents

Title:           Scents 

Summary:  Jubilee discovers Logan's sensitive nose objects to her perfume. So she does something about it.

Warnings:  Logan tries to thank Jubilee…guess how?

Rating:        PG 

Category:   Romance

Setting:       Non-specific

Characters: Logan/Jubilee guest starring Hank, Moose, and Ororo

Scents 

                Jubilee finished applying her lipstick and surveyed herself in the mirror. Reflected in the mirror behind her, she could see Logan sitting on the end of the bed, dressed and ready to go. "Jubes, yer pretty enough a'ready," he said finally. "Hurry or we'll be late meetin' Moose and "Ro fer the concert."

                "Okay, hold your horses," she grumbled, reaching for her bottle of perfume. "Hey, 'Ro takes longer getting dressed than I do." She glanced at his reflection in the mirror and saw his grimace. "What was that about?" she demanded, turning to him and putting her perfume down.

                "Nothin'," Logan crossed his arms.

                Jubilee mimicked his stance, crossing her arms too. "That face wasn't 'nothing' Logan,' she said. "Out with it."

                He sighed. "Ain't nothin' fer ya ta worry 'bout, okay darlin'?" He picked up her jacket and stood, holding it out to her. "Come on, put yer jacket on an' let's go."

                She scowled at him and refused to move.

                He sat down on the end of the bed. "Truth?"

                Jubilee nodded. "I'm all ears."

                "I hate that stuff."

                "What stuff?"

                "Perfume." The word came out in a growl.

                Jubilee looked mystified. "Perfume? What's wrong with my perfume?"

                "Ya know what my sense o' smell's like, Jubes. Perfumes are just…they're almost over powerin'. I hate the stuff. Ya know that stuff Jean wears when she an' Scott go out fer the night? Moon somethin' or orther?"

                Jubilee searched her memory. "'Moonlighting'?" she said.

                "Yeah. That stuff. I hate it, Jubes. Ya girls don' understan', ya smell fine ta me. Well, 'cept maybe after a Danger Room session, but then, none o' us smell good after that. That stuff," he gestured to the bottle sitting on the edge of her dresser, "Smells awful ta my nose."

                Jubilee dropped her arms, anger forgotten. "Oh, Logan. I'm sorry. I never thought of it that way before."

                "An' that's part o' the reason why I hate shoppin' with ya girls. Too much perfumes in the womens' department of the stores."

                Jubilee picked up her bottle of perfume and dug around in the debris on her desk for the box. She'd just bought it today: if she was lucky, she'd find the receipt in her checkbook tomorrow and return the bottle. Lucky she hadn't used any of it. Why had she never thought of it before? She'd never, not once, stopped to consider that her perfumes might be too strong for Logan's sensitive nose. Now that she thought of it, whenever she'd worn perfume Logan had kept his distance from her; and he'd avoided their bedroom for hours afterward. The same with all the girls' rooms, come to think of it.

                She and Logan joined 'Ro and Moose waiting out front in Moose's van. Jubilee climbed in, buckled her seatbelt, and said, "I didn't know you were into the Rolling Stones, 'Ro."

                Ororo nodded. "Some of their music isn't that bad," she admitted. "When Max told me he had four tickets and no one to go with, I offered to accompany him. There are worse things I could do with my evening, after all."

                "Yeah, like sit in the Rec Room watchin' Jean an' Scott neck in front of the TV,"Logan told her with a wicked grin. Ororo didn't dignify that with a response.

                They found their seats with a minimum of difficulty, and Jubilee shed her jacket, slinging it over the back of her chair. As she did so, she saw Logan looking at an older woman taking her seat just in front of them. He leaned in to her and whispered, "Smell her perfume? Or whatever it is she's wearin'? It's a lot better than a lot o' other perfumes."

                Jubilee leaned over, ostensibly to tie her sneaker but also to get a whiff of the woman's scent. She smelled of jasmine and magnolia flowers. Jubilee straightened up, and her mind was only half on the concert as she thought about the scent problem.

*                                                                              *                                                                              *

                She left the perfume bottle on the counter and had the saleslady give her sample sprays of the other perfumes. Some of them Jubilee hated herself; some weren't bad, and she exchanged her bottle for one that was labeled Sunkissed. _Just for when I go out with the girls_, she promised herself. None of it, however, smelled like anything Logan might like, or even tolerate. Finally, in desperation, she said to the saleslady, "My boyfriend is allergic to most perfumes. He doesn't have as strong a reaction to natural scents. Do you have anything like that?"

                The woman shook her head. 'No, we don't," she said regretfully. "Have you tried scented skin oils? They come in a variety of scents. My daughter is allergic to a lot of the perfumes as well, and she finally chose skin oils and mixed them in with an unscented lotion to make her own scent. You might try that."

                "Now there's an idea," Jubilee said happily. "Where would I find them?"

                "At the bed and bath shop down the hall," the woman said promptly. "That's where my Allison gets hers."

                Jubilee thanked the woman, and left. It wasn't hard to find the shop. As she walked in, she smelled the wonderful odor of roses, jasmine, and apple. She grinned. The woman's daughter had a good idea.

                She let her eyes wander down the rows of tiny bottles of scented oils, reading the labels. Lavender. Mint. Pine; She grinned at that one. Rose. Jasmine. Cinnamon. Apple. Coffee. Lemon. And a lot more. Jubilee picked up a tiny bottle of the 'Pine' scent, uncorked it, sniffed. The heady scent of a pine forest filled her nose. Logan would definitely appreciate that.

                "Can I help you?" said a voice. Jubilee corked the tiny bottle carefully and turned, to see a young man smiling at her.

                "Uh, maybe," Jubilee sighed. "See, my boyfriend is allergic to my perfume, and someone suggested trying an unscented lotion mixed with scented oils. I'm trying to find something that he might like."

                The boy smiled. "What does he like?"

                Jubilee was stumped. She hadn't asked Logan what he preferred. 

                The boy grinned. "Okay, what is he like?"

                Jubilee thought. "He's very rugged. The outdoorsy type. He goes camping out in the woods for days at a time."

                "So why not try for something that will remind him of the woods?" the boy said. "We have this scent called 'Waterfall'…here…" he reached past her and took down a little bottle. "Careful, some of this can be kind of strong. It's all concentrated, so it only takes maybe a few drops to do the trick." He held the bottle up for Jubilee to smell.

                Jubilee closed her eyes. She was standing in a forest glade…no, a rainforest glade…with a waterfall cascading down from an overhead rock and bathing her in its coolness. She grinned. "That's wonderful," she said.

                "Try this," he said, screwing a dropper onto a bottle of 'Magnolia' and putting a tiny drop on a sponge. He added a drop of 'Waterfall', waved it for a minute in the air, and then held it out. Now Jubilee was bathing in a waterfall-fed pool bordered with magnolias.

                She chose the 'Pine', 'Waterfall', and 'Wildflower' scents, paid for the tiny bottles and the eyedroppers, and thanked the boy for his help. Hurrying off to the grocery store, she chose an unscented lotion for her skin, and hurried home.

                She dumped her things off in her room, and stood there, wondering where to go next. She wanted it to be a surprise for Logan; where was she going to be able to mix her 'perfume' where he wouldn't smell it or see her doing it? She grinned suddenly. She could test her mixture on Hank. He wouldn't mind the company either.

                Hank looked up as Jubilee came into the lab, carrying a brown paper bag. "And what would you be wanting to do here, young Jubilee?" he said.

                Jubilee swept her isolated reaction chamber off to one side of her lab table, and put her bag down where it had been several moments ago. "Custom-mixing my own perfume," she grinned. At Hank's bewildered look, she explained, "Logan told me last night that the perfumes I usually get drive his nose nuts. So I decided to try to mix my own scent using unscented lotion and scented skin oils. What do you think of when you smell this?" she uncorked the 'Pine' bottle and held it up.

                "A pine forest," Hank said.

                "And this?" Jubilee uncorked the 'Wildflower' bottle.

                "A wildflower meadow in the middle of a pine forest."

                She uncorked 'Waterfall'. "Now?"

                Hank closed his eyes and sniffed appreciatively. "The same as the above…after a rain."

                "Think Logan would like it?"

                "I would not presume to dictate Logan's likes or dislikes…but he will at least appreciate the thoughtfulness you display in considering his tastes."

                Jubilee poured out some of the lotion into the separate bottle she'd bought, and added several drops of  each scent into it. She used a thin stirrer the boy at the shop had provided, then capped the bottle, shook it briskly, and applied a tiny bit behind each ear, down her neck, and on the insides of her wrists. She rubbed her wrists together, capped the bottle, and giggled. "This should work. Now I have to go find…" She stopped as Jean's telepathic voice filled both their heads. **Dinner!**

                Hank slid off his chair and held out his arm to Jubilee. "Let's go test the efficacy of your 'scent solution', shall we?"

*                                                                              *                                                                              *

                Jean took a deep sniff of the air as Jubilee and Hank passed her on the way to the dining room. "Hey, did someone open a window?" she asked Ororo, who was carrying a bowl of mashed potatoes. "I smell woods."

                Ororo sniffed the air deeply. "I smell it too, Jean," she said. "And no, I did not open the windows."

                Logan followed his nose to the kitchen. Part of it was the Cajun sausage Remy had cooked; he recognized the signature blend of spices the butcher in Greenwich Village used. Another part of it was the smell of a rain-drenched wildflower mountain meadow, complete with a hint of piney woods that he was smelling. His nose could tell it was an artificial scent; but it smelled just enough like the real thing to get his blood moving. The wildness of the mental image the scent evoked made him want to go find the meadow. So he followed the scent.

                He tracked it to the kitchen, then through the kitchen into the dining room. His gaze sharpened as he picked up the familiar female musk that accompanied the scent, and he slid into the seat beside Jubilee, never taking his eyes off her. What had she done?

                Jubilee felt Logan's gaze on her, and she took her time helping herself to the sausage and red beans-and-rice Remy had made before she turned to meet his eyes. "Like it?" she smiled innocently at him.

                'Like it?' oh, the little tease…Logan suddenly realized Jubilee had done this on purpose. The seductive scent of her own body, mixed with the scent of wildflowers and rain…he had a sudden vision of Jubilee, lying nude in a bed of wildflowers, rain making a slick, shiny coating on her bare skin as she moaned his name. He wanted her. He _really _wanted her.

                It took all of his self-control to sit there and eat the food on his plate when he really wanted to turn and eat the girl sitting beside him. It didn't take long for the others to figure out where the scent had come from. It didn't take Jubilee long to spill the secret (though she kept to herself the reason for it), and Logan was touched by her thoughtfulness. His mind was only half on the conversation as Jubilee told Oror that yes, there was a cinnamon and a honey scent at the shop. Ororo told her they would go shopping the next day to create her own blend.

                Dinner was barely over, dessert hadn't been served yet, and Jubilee had just put down her napkin when Logan grabbed her arm. She didn't protest, just followed him upstairs. He turned to close and lock the door, and when he turned around, Jubilee had removed her shirt  and was in the process of removing her jeans. The fragrance wasn't very strong to her, but to his sensitive nose it was filling the room. He closed his eyes, imagining himself in that wildflower meadow…

                Jubilee came to him, nude, and giggled as she started to push his shirt up off his upper body. "Couldn't wait, could you?" she whispered huskily.

                "Jubes…" He couldn't think with her hands roaming up and down his chest. "Thank…thank you…"

                "You're welcome," she grinned seductively, her hands going down to his belt. "Now come thank me properly." 

                Her lips pressed against his, and all thought fled his head.


	5. Jet Lag

Title:            Jet Lag

Summary:   Jubilee returns home and promptly gets pissed off…but Logan has just the way to cheer her up.

Warnings:  Full nudity!

Ratings:      R for sexual content

Category:   Romance

Setting:       Non-specific

Characters: Logan/Jubilee, guest starring Hank, Bobby, Remy, and Jean

Note to readers: This was shaping up to be an X-Rated story, but the X-rated half won't be posted here due to the rating restrictions on this site. If you have an idea where I might post this in its entirety (and the other X-rated stories I've written!) please Email me or give me an address in your review. Thank you!—Jae

Jet Lag   

Jubilee sighed as she dropped her suitcase on the bed. Jean followed, putting her other bag on the bed, and sat down as Jubilee started to unpack. "Where's Logan?" Jubilee said after a moment.

                "Went off somewhere," Jean said. "Out on his bike. He'll be back later."

                Jubilee sighed. "Well, at least he's not here. He hates it when I get back from a conference and I have jet lag. Makes me all snappy and irritable." She sighed again. "I hate snapping at him. He doesn't deserve it."

                Jean chuckled a bit as she watched Jubilee unpack. "What's this?" she said as Jubilee laid a brown-paper wrapped package on the night table.

                "Just a little something I got for him," she said quietly. 

                Jean was dying of curiosity, but she didn't ask.

                Jubilee took the plastic bag out of her suitcase and went over to the laundry hamper to empty her dirty clothes into it. She opened the lid, paused, and reached in. Jean watched as she drew out a pair of long black jeans. "These aren't Logan's," Jubilee said, looking at them. "Too long. Jean, any idea whose pants these are?"

                Jean looked mystified. "Beats me. Who would be dumping laundry in your hamper?"

                Jubilee upended the basket and dumped its contents onto the floor. She kicked aside some dirty socks and picked up a large black T-shirt. Again it wasn't Logan's. She tossed them aside in a heap on the floor, and rummaged through the rest of the laundry. Several pairs of dirty socks, a blue T-shirt, a green sweatshirt, two more pairs of jeans, and a pair of navy-blue khakis and a white button-down shirt were the last items tossed out of the basket. Jubilee stood, staring at the clothes for a moment, then put hers and Logan's clothes back in.

                She rooted around in the pile for a moment, then pulled out the black jeans. She shoved her hand in the pocket. Out fell a quarter and two pennies. She checked the rest of the pockets, but there was no clue as to the wearer of the pants. Jubilee tossed them aside and picked up the blue dress pants. This pocket yielded a one dollar bill and a sales receipt for a dozen roses from Mawry's Florist. Jubilee studied it intently.

                "What is it?" Jean asked.

                "A receipt from a florist shop," she said. 

                Jean snapped her fingers. "Remy said a few days ago that he was going to send Elise flowers," she said. "I bet the dress clothes are his."

                Jubilee looked at Jean. "You're kidding me. He and Rogue had a fight again and she refused to do his laundry again?"

                Jean nodded. "Now that I think of it, he did ask me if I would stick his clothes in the washer for him with some of Scott's stuff. I told him no, because I always get their things mixed up—they're both almost the same height, you know—and Scott ends up putting on a shirt that's too small for him."

                Jubilee picked up one of the jeans. This one was quite plainly marked 'Robert' across the back of the waistband. Her lips flattened out in a thin line, and she gathered the clothes in her arms, opened the bedroom door, and yelled, "**_BOBBY!!! REMY!!! Get your blasted clothes out of my laundry hamper!!!_**" She dumped the clothes on the floor and slammed the door, holding a finger to her lips to shush Jean as she listened. Sure enough, several minutes later, she detected the sound of someone stealthily tiptoeing down the hall. The footsteps stopped outside her door, and she heard the faint susurrus of cloth rubbing against cloth.

                She flung open the door, and caught Bobby in the act of taking his jeans, the blue T-shirt, and the green sweatshirt out of the pile. He looked up at her with the face of a child getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Jean wanted to laugh.

                Jubilee wasn't laughing. Didn't even think about it. Her blue eyes snapped fire at Bobby. "What were your clothes doing in my hamper? Hmm?"

                "Uh…I thought maybe you wouldn't mind maybe doing them? Just like, real quick?" He smiled, trying to placate Jubilee.

                Jubilee wasn't in the mood to be placated. "Couldn't even ask first? Huh? Well, Bobby, I'm not doing your dirty laundry for you. I do Logan's, I do mine, that's it. Yeah, I know I used to do yours sometimes when I was younger, but I'm not a free agent anymore. Think I don't have clothes to do? Logan puts out plenty of laundry. Go find someone else to do your dirty work." She slammed the door in his face, and heard him scuttle ignominiously away to his own room. She waited for a long time by the door for Remy as she tried to ignore Jean's hysterical laughter as the redhead doubled over on the bed. 

                Quite some time later, Jubilee caught the telltale psychic signature of a certain Cajun. She was surprised that she hadn't heard Remy come down the hall…then realized he was a former thief. He'd know how to sneak. Well, not in front of her. He flung the door open, and caught Remy in the act of bundling up his clothes and trying to sneak away.

                "You and Rogue have an argument, and you think I'll feel sorry for you and you try to sucker me into doing your laundry, is that it?" she snapped. Remy stood there, with much the same look on his face that Bobby had, and then tried to smile. Jean wanted to laugh all over again. Jubilee made a face at him. "No, don't try that Cajun charm on me. It's not going to work this time. I got enough stuff to worry about without all of you asking me to do your laundry too. You wore them, you clean them." She slammed the door in Remy's face, and turned to Jean. "What're you laughing at?"

                Jean stopped laughing and eyed the door, wondering how fast she could get to it. "Uh…nothing, just…uh...remembering the times when I had five guys asking me to do their laundry," she said.

                "Well, those days are gone." Jubilee turned away from Jean and the door. Jean paused for a moment, uncomfortable with the sudden silence, then ran out the door, trying to get as far away from a jet-lagged Jubilee as possible.

                Jubilee went back to her unpacking and was just finishing when there came a knock at her door. She turned and growled, "What?"

                Hank opened the door. "If I may ask you for a favor, young Jubilee?" he queried.

                "Depends on what it is," Jubilee said, crossing her arms.

                Hank held up a wrinkled white tuxedo shirt. "Charles wishes me to accompany him to a formal affair tonight. The Governor's Ball, I believe. Might I perhaps prevail upon you to press the shirt for me this afternoon…" He stopped, because a minor thunderstorm was building up in front of him, and it was named Jubilee.

                She exploded. "What is with you people! Think I don't have anything better to do than take care of everyone's dirty jeans, wrinkled shirts, and smelly socks? Go do your own stuff and _leave me alone!_ I just got back from Tokyo, for gosh sakes! I'm tired, and the last thing I want to do is laundry!" She threw up her hands, flung her last folded shirt into the drawer, and brushed past Hank, heading for the stairs.

                She didn't stop until she was in her favorite spot by the lake. She sighed as she sat down heavily on the flat rock and stared into the water. She hadn't meant to get mad at Hank, she really hadn't. At least he'd asked. But it was hot, she hated the crowds at the airport, and she was tired.

                The peace and quiet gradually seeped into her, and she sighed and slipped out of her shirt. She'd worn her bikini under her clothes because she'd been intending to join the others in the pool. So much for that idea. She didn't want to go anywhere now. She just wanted to stay here, on the rock, in the warm sun…

                She closed her eyes and was soon asleep.

*                                                                              *                                                                              *

                Logan knew where Jubilee would be. She loved to stretch out on the flat rock by the lake, and tan. He checked her drawer real quick where she usually kept her bikini. Hoping he wasn't going to get snapped at like Jean had told him Hank, Bobby, and Remy had, he grabbed a bottle of suntan lotion and headed outside.

                It was really hot. By the time he got to the lake he was sweating. Jubilee was, as he had guessed, stretched out on the rock, asleep, in her bathing suit. He smiled as he saw her, a gentle, tender smile that he saved just for her. No one else could bring that smile to his face.

                He stripped off his shirt and jeans, and climbed onto the rock behind her. Grinning, he squeezed some of the suntan lotion onto his hand and began to rub it into her legs, starting with her tiny feet and working his way upwards with long, slow, gentle strokes.

                Jubilee woke as she felt the hand on her ankle, but a quick telepathic probe told her it was Logan. She relaxed, moaning in sensual pleasure as he smoothed the lotion onto her skin, massaging her calf muscles as he went. She stretched lazily, groaning as his large hands found the muscles in her upper legs, in her thighs, and massaged them too. Then climbed onto the rock, letting his weight settle onto her legs as he let his hands travel over her backside and up her back, his thumbs making small circles on the skin on either side of her spine. He rubbed the lotion into her back, and moved up to her shoulders. "Tense here, Jubes," he whispered into her ear. His fingers slowly rubbed the tension out of her shoulder muscles, making her moan as he did so. Damn, she loved Logan. He could make her moan just by touching her.

                "Ooooh, there," she groaned, shifting her shoulders just a bit to nudge his hands into the right position to ease the tension out of one particularly knotted muscle. "Oh, God, Logan, I love you."

                "I love you too, darlin'," Logan said, kissing one shoulder. 'Now turn over." She did, and he was treated to a sight of her perky breasts pushing against the thin fabric of her skimpy bikini top. He rubbed the lotion into her chest, applying it in smooth, languid strokes from her earlobe to the shadowed valley between her breasts, then rubbed it into her upper arms, the inside of her elbows, and down her forearms to her wrists. He finished off with a light, feathery kiss to the inside of her wrist, then returned to her torso to apply the lotion to her ribcage, her tiny waist, flat, pale tummy, and stopped just under her navel. He skipped downward to her thighs, then down her shins to the arches of her feet.

                Jubilee sat up, gave him a wicked grin he knew all too well. He didn't even have time to protest before her bikini top fell to the rock's surface. She wiggled her legs out from under him, stood up, and a moment later the bottom joined the top on the ground. "Jubes," he whispered, barely able to breathe.

                She placed a finger on his lips, pushed him down onto the rock, and took the lotion from his nerveless fingers. He lay down and felt her hands slowly begin to traverse his body in the same way he had just explored hers. It felt incredibly sensual to his heightened sense of touch, and he almost shivered with the intensity of the pleasure he was feeling from those small hands rubbing him all over. She finished with his back, and he flipped over…but not before removing his shorts. Jubilee pressed herself against him as she started to lotion his front. "Jubes, he said, "I ain't gonna get a sunburn. Fergit the lotion an' jus' do what ya really wanna do, okay?"

                "Sure, Wolvie." It was a childish nickname, but the distinctly husky voice she said it in was anything but innocent. Logan banished all other thought to the back of his mind as he lost himself in the wave of sensations that washed over them both. 


	6. Catfight

Title: Catfight

Summary: Nobody likes hearing someone they love get insulted.

Warnings: There's a barfight, and a same-gender pair. Don't like or approve of girl/girl pairs, don't read this. 

Rating: PG- some language, fighting, adult themes

Setting: Non-specific

Characters: Logan/Jubilee, Leslie/Linda (both original characters)            

Catfight

The bar was smoky, dim, but surprisingly not as crowded as it usually was on a Friday. Jubilee and Logan walked in, took stock of their surroundings, and sat down at the nearest clean, empty booth.

                Jubilee giggled, and Logan looked at her. "What's so funny?" he asked her.

                "Look over there," she pointed at the bar. Logan followed the direction of her pointing finger and saw a tall, husky guy standing there next to a seated woman. 

                "Yeah? So what? He's tryin' ta pick up a pretty girl."

                Jubilee giggled again. "You don't see it?" She shook her head. "You don't smell it?"

                Logan sniffed, but there were too many smells in the bar for him to distinguish the smells of two individuals in the morass of other scents in the room. "Nope. What am I s'posed ta be gettin', exactly, Jubes?"

                She grinned. "I don't think that guy knows he's hitting on a man."

                Logan did a double take. "That woman's a man?"

                Jubilee took a sip of her soda. "Yep."

                Logan shook his head in disbelief. "I don't see it, Jubes." His eyes wandered down the 'woman' from head to toe. Long blonde hair…but that could be a wig. Nice rack…but that could be a padded bra. Hips did seem a little straight, but there was a nice shapely ass on 'her'. Long, nice, straight stems—legs--on her…then Logan reached the shoes. No woman had feet that big. Jubes' feet would have to be three times as big as they were now to wear those heels. Hell, he would be able to fit into them with room to spare.

                He shook his head. "Damn."

                Jubilee looked at him. "You figured it out?"

                "Yeah," he said, taking a sip of his beer. "Those feet, damn, Jubes, yer feet would have ta be three times larger'n they are now ta wear those things. But she—he—does have some nice stems."

                Jubilee took a quick look back at the 'woman' at the bar, then a surreptitious look at her own legs. She hated her legs. She wished, constantly, for legs like Jean's, or like Ororo's. She had short, slightly muscular legs; they had long, slender, willowy ones.

                Logan didn't miss that look. He sighed. "Jubes, I love yer legs," he said to her gently. "Those skinny things she…he…has? They look good, but they ain't gonna feel so good when someone lies beside 'her' in bed. Too bony. There's no muscle there. Ya know how I like it when ya wrap yer legs around me when we…"

                Jubilee put her glass down. "Yes, yes, I know." Her face turned pink. "Not so loud, Logan."

                He grinned, but went on. "If ya didn't have muscle on ya, Jubes, I wouldn't be able ta do…that. So don't knock yerself, Jubes. Yer perfect just the way ya are."

                A woman brushed past their table, and Logan looked her over critically. Heavy perfume, but was it a woman…? "Jubes…?"

                Jubilee looked at the disappearing figure. "Yeah, that was a woman," she said. A man walked by a moment later, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, with a cowboy hat slouched low over the forehead, and Jubilee giggled. "That's a girl."

                "Huh?" Logan stared in disbelief. Cowboy Hat and Heavy Perfume settled into two stools by the bar and ordered drinks, to everyone else looking like a redneck guy and a trailer-trash girl sitting there together.

                "They're two girls," Jubilee giggled. "I have to use the ladies' room. Let me know if you can figure it out," and she grinned and got up.

                Logan sat there, eyeing the two women and trying to figure the 'guy' out. He was maybe a little short, but other than that, Logan couldn't see any difference…oh yes he could. There was a slight swell of hips outward from the waist of the jeans. Not much, but it was there. He returned to his beer.

                Someone slid into the chair across from him, someone who was wearing entirely too much perfume. It sure as hell wasn't Jubilee. He looked up, to see Cowboy Hat slip into the booth across from him. "Hey, cowboy," the woman grinned at him.

                "Hey yerself," Logan growled, staring at his beer bottle and pulling his hat down a bit lower over his forehead. 

                "You here with that little Asian chick?"

                Logan put a growl in his voice. "Yeah, she's with me."

                Cowboy Hat grinned. "She's a real looker. You're a lucky man."

                Logan said warily, "I count my blessin's every day. So why the chitchat?"

                Cowboy Hat blinked. "What?"

                "Quit beatin' 'round the bush. Why the hell ya jawin' 'bout my girl?"

                Cowboy Hat removed the hat. "It's not what you think." She ran her fingers through her reddish-brown hair. "I don't know if you could tell. I'm a woman. My name is Leslie." She ran an arm around the other woman, her companion, as the woman came up. "This is Linda, my…friend." The tone of voice in which she said the word 'friend' left little doubt in Logan's mind what that 'friendship' entailed. "We were thinking that if your girl swings that way, maybe we all might…get better acquainted." 

                Logan raised an eyebrow. Just the one, slowly, and no more. Three girls…it was every man's fantasy…but not his. Not when it came to his Jubes. "I don't think so," he said.

                "Well, do you mind if we ask her?"

                "Ask me what?" Jubilee came up to them. 

                Leslie and Linda looked at each other, unsure how to begin.

                Jubilee arched her eyebrow; an exact imitation of Logan's raised eyebrow. He wondered, rather distantly, how many of his mannerisms she had picked up. "While you're trying to remember what it was you wanted to ask me, maybe you could get out of my seat?" she snapped.

                Leslie bristled. "Watch how you talk to your elders, girl," she said, standing. She was a good head taller than Jubilee, but the younger girl wasn't at all intimidated. She'd faced down thirty-foot sentinels, cannibalistic blood-sucking mutants, and exotic aliens from other worlds, after all; what was one woman a head taller than herself? Besides, Logan thought, Leslie didn't look all that much older than Jubilee.

                "Elder? Hah. How are you 'older' when you play dress-up like a little girl?"

                "'Little'? I think the pot's calling the kettle black," Leslie snickered. "Well, Linda and I here wanted to ask you if you'd like to join us for a little…adult…fun, but maybe we were wrong. You're obviously not adult enough to join us." She stood up. "Come on, Linda. Let's leave the little girl and her Daddy here. She probably enjoys what her Daddy does to her more." She turned to Logan. "If I were you, I'd spank some manners into her, old man. She's a bit spoiled." Logan bristled and half-rose in his chair. The idea…!

                Jubilee didn't move out of her way so she could leave. "Take that back." Her voice was tight and even, but Logan heard the warning in it. He sat back. These women were about to find out that pissing his little firecracker off wasn't something they should have done.

                "What? That you're spoiled? That you're a little girl?"

                "No. Logan is not an old man, nor is he my 'daddy'. And what you're implying with that is unspeakable. Apologize."

                Leslie laughed and tried to brush Jubilee aside. Jubilee spread her legs apart a foot or so and refused to budge. "Apologize."

                Linda laughed. "Leslie, I do believe she's challenging you," she said. "You going to let her get away with that?"

                Leslie made a half-turn toward Linda, winked, and then turned back toward Jubilee as she brought her fist up. Logan almost yelled Jubilee's name…then realized the warning wasn't necessary. Jubilee saw that coming, and slapped the woman's fist away. Leslie tried again, only to be blocked harder. She stared stupefied at Jubilee, who stood there, quiet but tense. "Apologize."

                "Like hell." Leslie struck out again.

                Jubilee danced backward on the balls of her feet, watching every move the other woman made. Leslie circled her, and she kept turning, meeting the other woman, refusing to let her guard down. "Apologize," she said tersely. "Last chance, before I kick your ass. I don't knock you for your choice in," she flicked her eyes up toward Linda, standing frozen by the table, "Bed partners, so don't knock mine. Apologize." The other patrons of the bar were similarly frozen, some scrambling to get out of the way as fast as they could. No one seemed inclined to break up the fight. Logan was leaning against the booth, chewing on a toothpick and smiling. Jubilee winked at him and turned her attention back to the fight.

                Leslie dropped to the floor, swept out her foot, and tried to hook her ankle, but Jubilee was quicker, and saw the woman's movement. She jumped clear of the foot and dropped to the floor in a perfectly executed gymnast's roll. She came out of the roll barely a hand's span away from the startled Leslie's supporting leg, and grabbed it in a steely grip. One hard yank, and the woman fell on top of her. Jubilee rolled her over on her back, keeping hold of one wrist, and twisted it up over the woman's back. Leslie found herself effectively pinned against the floor, with Jubilee sitting on her back.

                "Apologize," Jubilee ground out.

                "No," Leslie snapped. Jubilee twisted her arm higher up her back. "Ow, damn it, you're hurting me….get the hell off me, you little aaagghhh!" 

Jubilee had twisted her arm further up her back. "Apologize," she said with sweet maliciousness. "Or I'll dislocate it."

"All right…all right…" Leslie gasped. "I'm sorry."

"I didn't hear that," Jubilee said, increasing the strength of her grip. "Say that again? Louder, maybe?"

"I said, I'm sorry!" Leslie howled. "I'm sorry I insulted you! I'm sorry I called your boyfriend an old man! I'm sorry I said he had a taste for little girls! I'm sorry I called you a spoiled little girl!"

"Apology accepted." Jubilee leaned in close to her ear. "Now, if I were you, I'd be hauling ass out of here. Maybe you should consider it…before I decide to kick your butt around a little more."

Leslie got up, grabbed Linda's hand, and fled.

There was a scattering of applause as jubilee got up. She looked around in surprise. Logan was clapping, and he was joined by quite a few other patrons of the bar. She looked at the bartender in surprise as he came up to her. "Hey, what's this about?"

"Those two women are the most annoying patrons we have," he said. "They hit on everyone who walks in here, then belittle and insult anyone who declines their invitation. Thye usually avoid getting beaten up by avoiding asking anyone who looks like they might be able to beat them. I guess they made a mistake this time." He grinned broadly and held out a fistful of bills. 

Jubilee stared. "What's this?"

He grinned wider. "Some of us placed bets on the winner of the fight. I bet for you. So did some of the others. You won, we won. Figured you'd be entitled to the winnings."

Jubilee shook her head, reaching for her jacket and putting it on. "Ah, no. I don't want it. Use it to pay for a round of drinks for everyone. I'm going home." She marched out of the bar as Logan hurried after her.

"Jubes," he stopped her. She stopped, but didn't look at him. "Ya weren't mad at her 'cause she insulted you. Ya got mad 'cause she insulted me. How come?"

"Because you get picked on way too much," she burst out, turning to face him. "Everybody picks on you. Even the other X-Men, sometimes. I hate it when they do that."

"Jubes," Logan folded her in his arms. "I don't mind it at all. Granted, those two women in there were kinda over the top, but it's nothin' I ain't heard before. People say that all the time 'bout older men and younger women. Believe me, I've heard it all. It don't bother me none. I 'preciate ya wantin' ta protect my ears, but it ain't necessary, 'kay? An' a lot o' the ribbin' I get from 'Ro, Remy, and even Scott ain't meant ta hurt my feelin's. It's all fun."

Jubilee wiped her eys. "You sure?"

"I'm sure, Jubes. Come on. Let's go home."


	7. Laundry Day

Title:            Laundry Day

Summary:    Laundry day at the mansion!

Warnings:   None

Rating:         G-general

Setting:        Non-specific

Characters: Rogue/Remy, also featuring Jean, Ororo, Scott, Jubilee, Hank, Logan, Betsy, Warren, and Bobby

Laundry Day 

                Jean hefted her heavy laundry basket and descended the steps to the basement, where the two washers and dryers sat side by side. Jubilee was already there, sorting out Logan's and her own laundry; Ororo was sorting hers and Hank's laundry, and Betsy was sorting hers and Warren's. Rogue was sitting at the table set out by the machines measuring out detergent.

                "Done sorting yours and Remy's already?" Jean asked her, setting her basket in the corner and picking up the blue and red baskets.

                It was laundry day at the mansion. Jean had started it when she'd tried for two days in a row to get hers and Scott's laundry done, and found the machines in use. So she and the other girls had gotten together and worked out a schedule whereby they all got together and did their laundry in turns on one day during the week. The guys would cook the meals for that day while the girls did laundry.  

                There was an agreement between the girls and the guys about who would be doing whose laundry. Jean did hers, Scott, and Charles's clothes; Ororo did Hank's and her own; Betsy did Warren's clothing with her own; and Rogue usually did Remy's. When Jubilee was younger, Bobby and Logan had slipped their laundry in with hers; the younger girl had complained, but not much. Now, though, she was older, and had more self-confidence. Self-confidence to tell Bobby to go do his own stuff.

                Jean had a blue basket in her room for hers and Scott's stuff. Xavier had a red one. There were matching baskets down here for the clothes. She put the red basket on the table, sorted Charles' white shirts, socks, and underclothes into the spare basket, left the colors in the original, then put them aside as she did the same to hers and Scott's in the spare blue basket.

                Ororo had two white baskets and two navy-blue baskets in front of her; the white baskets held her clothes, and the navy-blue ones held Hank's extra large shirts and pants. Betsy had a yellow basket in front of her, sorting Warren's. Her two purple baskets were already neatly set off to the side. Jubilee had her own yellow basket (a different shape than Warren's, to prevent the 'you have my basket' argument) filled, and was in the process of hefting Logan's black basket onto the table to sort his clothes. 

                Rogue dumped her green basket of colored laundry into the first machine and added detergent, then set the machine and sat down at the table as it started its wash cycle. "Nah. The swamp rat's gonna do his own stuff with Bobby tomorrow." There was a snicker from somewhere behind her, and she spun, but both Jubilee and Betsy were sorting their clothes with perfectly straight, innocent faces, and she couldn't identify who had laughed.

                Jean had to fight to keep hers straight. Jubilee had come home the week before to find Bobby and Remy's clothes added to her own and Logan's laundry. They had all heard the explosion of temper that afternoon. "What did he do this time?"

                Rogue made a face, and went to the small fridge in the corner where the girls kept their snacks for laundry day. She pulled out a soda, popped it open, and took a sip. "Goin' on about that new girlfriend of his," she snapped. "Elise this. Elise that. Ah dunno what he sees in her. Jubilee told me what it was like double datin' with her and Remy. I'd'a probably thrown popcorn at her, too…or maybe sumthin' heavier."

                Ororo was the one grinning this time, but she made no sound. Jean finished with her clothes and went to the second washer, loaded her bed sheets and a blanket into it, and sat down at the table. Jubilee went to the fridge and took out a soda, grabbing one for Jean. Jean took it, opened it, and took a drink as she said to Rogue, "He's pissed you off before, but you kept doing his stuff anyway."

                "It's differ'nt this time," Rogue said. "Ah doan' lahk the girl, but from what Ah been hearin', she don't deserve him. She's totally self-cennert, an' he can't even see that, the swamp rat!"

                Jean grinned behind the bottle of soda. 

                Ororo and Betsy finished sorting their laundry, and got sodas from the fridge. They sat down at the table, and Betsy opened a bag of chips as she changed the subject. "What do we want to do today, girls?" she asked them.

                Jubilee said, "Monopoly."

                Jean said, "Poker."

                Rogue chimed in with, "Monopoly."

                Ororo said, "Monopoly."

                Jean looked huffy. "How come nobody wants to play poker?"

                "Cause you're too damn good at it!" the others said in unison. Ororo said, "Though that's hardly your fault. If you were not good at poker you would have spent most of your first few months here wearing a bathing suit and nothing else."

                Jean's face went pink. "I would not!"

                "Yes you would," Ororo said, getting up to fetch the Monopoly board. "Hank told me about the poker games and the bets. He also told me about the time Bobby won that bet and you had to wear a wet T-shirt for the whole picnic the boys threw for Charles's birthday--"

                "Okay, okay," Jean gave an embarrassed wave, seeing the others perk up. "You don't have to go into details, I remember fine. Monopoly it is."

                Betsy raised an eyebrow. Jubilee looked back at her, and they both said, "Ororo, we haven't heard that one before…"

                "Oh, yeah," Rogue sat back, smiling sweetly at Jean's uncomfortable look, "Jean an' Bobby was playin' poker. Y'all know Charles don't allow playin' fer money, so they bet instead. Jean lost the game, an' she had to wear a wet T-shirt 'cause that's what Bobby had said she hadda do. And she hadda wear the shirt without a bra."

                The others giggled, and Jean threw a chip at Rogue. "Well, he didn't see much, because I put bandaids on," she said.

                Jubilee snickered as she counted out her money. "But that wasn't any fun," she giggled. "The guys didn't get a look at what they really wanted to see."

                "No," Jean said. "That was my intention." She pushed the money tray at Jubilee. "You suggested it. You're the banker this time."

*                                              *                                              *

                Up in the kitchen, Scott was sticking the beef roast in the oven while Hank and Warren tended various boiling pots on top of the stove. Logan sat at the table, using his claws to peel and slice potatoes.

                "Logan," Scott said, exasperated, "How many times do I have to tell you to use a regular knife? Claws are hardly the most sanitary."

                Logan picked up the unused knife beside the potato basket and started peeling. As soon as Scott turned his back, he put the knife down and started peeling with his claw again. The middle one this time.

                The back kitchen door opened, and Remy stumbled inside, looking rather the worse for wear. "Where have you been?" Scott took in the disheveled clothes, wild hair and bleary eyes, and lowered his voice a bit. Remy was obviously deep in the throes of a really wicked hangover. "It's almost lunchtime, Remy. Where have you been?"

                Remy didn't answer, instead going to the coffeemaker and checking it for coffee. When he saw the pot was empty, he groaned and reached for the cabinet where the filters and canister was kept.

                "No, Remy," Hank said, taking Remy's hand away from the knob. "Sit down and I shall prepare your morning brew for you." He commenced to set the coffeemaker. "If I am not intruding, my friend, " he said as Remy took a seat at the kitchen table and stared morosely at the pile of peeled potatoes, "What brought on this sudden bout of depression?"

                Scott tossed the towel over his shoulder and turned around, so intent on Remy's answer that he forgot to chide Logan on his use of his claws on the potatoes.

                "Elise broke up wit' me," Remy stared despondently at the table. "She jus' got back from a tour in Europe. She said las' night she met dis male dancer in Russia an' he was goin' to be comin' here to de States to study an' she wanted to clear her social calendar for him. So jus' like dat it be over. Remy gone drinkin' las' night after she broke up wit' me."

                None of them noticed Bobby standing in the door to the kitchen. He grinned, turned, and left.

                Downstairs, Ororo was serenely collecting rent from Betsy for landing on the Boardwalk when Bobby came clattering down the stairs. His eyes goggled a bit at the empty soda bottles, chip bags, and snack foods lying scattered around the table, but was too full of his news to complain that the girls were hiding snack foods from the guys. "Hey, Rogue," he said excitedly. "Remy just came in. His ballerina girlfriend dumped him. He spent the whole night drinking. He just came in. Man, he looks awful. Can't even stand up straight."

                Rogue went white, got up from her place at the table, and ran up the stairs without a word to anyone else.

*                                                              *                                                              *

                Remy hung onto the banisters, taking each step slowly as what was left of his brain sloshed around noisily in his head. He didn't usually drink like this; what had he drunk, now that he was thinking about it, to put himself in this condition? He didn't remember; and right now, it hurt too much to try to remember. He groaned and hauled himself and his aching head up another step.

                Strong arms wrapped around his middle, and a deft hand swept the coffee from his hand. "Come on, sugah," came a comfortingly low voice in his ear. "Let's get yah into bed 'fore yah fall over."

                "Rogue?" he turned, ignoring the pain that bloomed in his head at the sudden movement. "What are you doin' here, p'tite?"

                "Takin' care'a yoah sorry ass," Rogue said, her voice gentle despite the harsh word. "Come on, Remy. Let's get yah inta bed." She slid an arm across his back and helped him up the rest of the stairs. "Come on, one more step…okay, theah we are, yah got up here…now jus' a few more steps ta yer room…"

                She finally let him fall into his bed with a groan, and sat down and unlaced his boots. "Yeugh, Remy, those're some smelly socks!" She pulled the socks off and fumbled with the zipper on his pants. "Come on, big boy, off wit' the pants. And the shirt." She unbuttoned the shirt, gathered the pants and socks and his alcohol-scented jacket, and went to drop them in the green hamper in the corner of his room. It was so full his clothes were spilling out of it. Rogue sniffed. "Guess yer girlfriend couldn't be spared the time to do clothes, huh? Some girl." She turned back to the bed, but Remy was out like a light, snoring slightly, his mouth open. She returned to the bed and reached out to him, touching the whisker stubble that darkened his chin, then placed her hand over his lips and kissed the back of her hand. "Sleep tight, Remy." She pulled the sheets up around his chin, covering the white tank and boxers, and pulled the curtain down.

                She gathered all of his clothes onto the pile in the basket, wrinkling her nose at the smell of unwashed clothes, then left his room.

                "Not a word," she said severely to Jean's smirk as she descended the steps to the basement carrying Remy's clothes. She picked up the last basket in the corner and began to sort the colors.


	8. The Rage

Title:          The Rage

Summary:  Jubilee gets too close to Logan at the wrong time.

Warnings: **Strong adult themes; this has a borderlineR/NC-17 Rating!**

Rating:       Borderline R/NC-17 rating

Setting:      After the wedding in 'Love Lights Your Way'

Characters: Logan/Jubilee, guest starring Hank, Jean, and Xavier

Note to readers: I had some trouble deciding whether to put this on this site or on www.adultfanfiction.net, with which I also have an account opened. I decided to put it on this one because it has a plot and a lot of emotional significance to the novels I wrote. If you think it's too graphic, let me know and I'll take it down and put it on the other site. Thanks!--Jae

The Rage 

                Xavier was the only one who saw the warning signs.

                The X-Men had just finished a particularly intense Danger Room session. They had all unanimously agreed to up the danger factor on the simulator, and quite a few of them were scratched, bruised, and battered. Their uniforms were ripped and tattered, and all were exhausted and ready to hit the showers. 

                Except one.

                Logan stood in the middle of the Danger Room, breathing heavily, his uniform torn in at least half a dozen places. His eyes held that dangerous, feral glitter Xavier knew meant he was far gone in that berserker rage that scared everyone. With one exception.

                Jubilee turned at the door, saw Logan still standing in the middle of the room, and turned and walked back toward him. Xavier saw Logan turn toward the dark-haired twenty-four year old girl walking toward him, and sucked in a breath. Jubilee might be married to him, but Charles didn't think she was prepared to handle Logan in his present state. **Jubilee…** he warned her. **Logan's dangerous in this state of mind. Don't go near him.**

                **Charles,** Jubilee's mindvoice was light, **Logan is my husband. He wouldn't hurt me.** She strolled back across the floor to Logan. "Come on, Logan," she said, taking his arm and tugging gently. "Let's go get cleaned up."

*                                                              *                                                              *

                His senses were riveted to the black-haired nymph walking toward him. She smelled of female sweat and blood from the scratch on her thigh…and something else. He sniffed deeply. This female was in heat; he could smell the scent of pheromones all over her. He stalked toward her, stiff-legged, a predator hunting down someone marked as prey.

*                                                              *                                                              *

                Jubilee narrowed her eyes at the look in Logan's eyes. "Logan? Are you okay?"

                He sprang at her. Completely unprepared, she fell backward as he collided with her and bore her down backwards to the floor. His hands were all over her, roving her body, ripping away the shreds of her uniform. Jubilee yelled, "Logan, come on! Stop it! You're ruining my uniform! Logan!"

                He ripped away the last shreds, and her bra soon joined it. His claws scratched her skin, leaving long red gashes in her skin. She could feel them; they were shallow, superficial, but they hurt like hell. She screamed as loud as she could. "Logan! Stop it!" She froze as he slit the waistband of her briefs and pulled the shredded cotton away, sniffing at her body. She made a face. It was her time of month; Logan knew she hated being touched now.

                He grabbed handfuls of his own uniform and ripped it open, then shredded the briefs he wore under it. Jubilee became alarmed. "Logan! Logan, stop it!" She struggled as he slipped one hair-roughened thigh between hers, spreading her thighs open. She flailed out, panicking. "Logan! Stop it! Stop it, you're hurting me!" she switched to her telepathic voice and screamed, **LOGAN STOP IT!**

Jean was slipping into her clothes in the girls' locker room when her mind was assaulted by Jubilee's telepathic scream. She staggered and clutched her head, moaning. Across the room, Betsy was doing the same. Ororo rushed to Jean's side as Rogue did the same to Betsy, but Jean waved her off. Wincing from the telepathic call ringing through her head, she nevertheless struggled to her feet and tried to stagger toward the door as Xavier's frantic call rang through all their heads. **X-men! Scott, Remy, Hank! Logan's hurting Jubilee!!**

                In the Danger Room, Jubilee screamed as Logan pushed into her unprepared body. She arched her back in pain as he pulled out, then thrust in again. The memories of Bastion, of Creed, rushed into her mind, and it took all of her will not to strike out with her plasma and blast Logan off her. This was Logan, after all. Her husband. He didn't mean to hurt her. He loved her.

                She gritted her teeth and forced herself to relax. The muscles inside her body loosened, and she suddenly felt heat begin deep inside her body. She groaned as he began to move, faster and faster, and she felt herself becoming aroused. Unconsciously, her hips began to move in rhythm with his, and, with her emotions under control, she dared to open her mind to his.

                Pure, unadulterated lust flooded her mind. She finally understood. Logan's berserker rage was really the animal part of his brain taking over. She could feel his lust, his desire for her, and it spilled over to engulf her.  He howled as he came inside her, and she screamed again, in pleasure, then got lost in the swirl of emotions and sensations from both her body and his and went limp.

                Jean and Scott got into the Danger Room first, and stared in shock. Logan and Jubilee both lay on the floor, unconscious. Jubilee was bleeding from between her spread thighs and her body was marked with scratches; there was blood smeared all over Logan's front, concentrating on his groin and inner thighs. Her blood also smeared his claws and fingers.

                "Oh my God," Jean whispered. "Oh God." She picked Logan up, none too gently, and dropped him on the floor of the Danger Room, then took Jubilee's limp body in a telekinetic hold. **Take her to Hank in the medlabs,** Xavier said. **Scott, put Logan on one of the tables in the medlab…and strap him down. I don't know if he's still going to be in the rage when he wakes up, but I don't want to take a chance on him hurting Jubilee again.**  

*                                                              *                                                              *

                Logan groaned as his eyes opened.

                He stared upward at the plain gray ceiling above him. The distinctive hum of the Shi'ar machines around him reassured him. He was in the medlabs, then.

                He tried to get up, to roll over and sit up, and found he couldn't. He was restrained by a heavy band of metal across his chest. He blinked. "What happened?"

                Jean's face swam into view. She looked angry. "You don't remember?"

                Logan didn't want to see the fury in her eyes, so he dropped his gaze to the metal band across his chest, and got another surprise. Just past that band, he saw the huge rip in his uniform. The uniform itself covered with flaky dried reddish-brown matter that his nose told him was blood. "Jean, what happened?"

                Jean snapped, "You attacked Jubilee in the Danger Room. You were so far gone in that damn berserker rage you get into that you jumped on her."

                He stared at his blood-crusted clothes. Jean didn't have to say anymore. "Is Jubilee…all right?" It was the only thing he could think of to say. She was his life, his world, his love. His wife. And he'd hurt her, in perhaps the worst way a woman could be hurt. She felt the same pain at Creed's hands, at Bastion's, and now, at his, the one person who should have loved, protected, and cherished her the most.

                "She is fine, physically," Hank said. "A great deal of that blood is the natural process of her body flushing out the unused lining of her uterus. She'll be all right physically; emotionally, though, I'm not sure."

                Logan's head fell back against the bed, closing his eyes as a sick feeling filled him. What had he done?! She would leave him now, she would divorce him, and she had every right to. He had raped her. He felt the pressure of the gold wedding ring on his finger, and nearly started crying. She was the best thing ever to happen to him, and he'd ruined it all in a few careless moments. What would she feel like when she woke up? She had managed to get past Bastion's brutal rape of her; and then had worked past Creed's violation. But how was she going to react to this betrayal? He lay on the bed, tears filling his eyes, tears he refused to shed. He deserved to lose her. 

Jubilee's eyelids fluttered, and she groaned. Her body hurt. That must have been some workout in the Danger Room. She figured she must be in the medlabs, and started to roll over when she felt the spasming of muscles in her abdomen and moaned at the raw ache between her legs.

                Memory flooded back, and she groaned as she sat up. _Damn. Never had so much fun. Sex is fun with him like that. Where is he? Oh,.._ "Logan…"

                "She's waking up," Jean said. As Jubilee opened her eyes, she saw Jean and Hank hovering over her. "Jubilee, how do you feel?"

                She sat up slowly, wincing a bit as she felt the soreness between her legs. "Okay, I guess. What happened?" She looked past Jean to where Logan lay on the adjoining bed still strapped in. "What are you doing?" she said. "What happened?" Without waiting for an answer, she got up off her bed and started to fuss with the metal band across Logan's chest.

                "Darlin', no," Logan moaned. 

She took another look at him, lying limp there, and she wrinkled her nose. "No nothing. You smell. We both have to get cleaned up. Come on."

He stared at her, stupefied. "But Jubes…I…I raped you. Don't you remember?"

Jubilee giggled. "Logan, don't be silly! You might have taken me by surprise, but I loved it too!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him up to a sitting position, then started to work on the bindings on his ankles. "Though I'd appreciate it if you waited next time till it wasn't my cranky week, as you put it. Look, you've messed your uniform up. Mine isn't much better; I guess I'm going to have a lot of sewing to do for the next week." She stood, as Logan continued to stare at her stupidly.

She sighed again, placed her hands on his thighs and leaned in until her face was only inches from his. "_Logan. _Listen to me. _You didn't hurt me._ I am fine. Now will you come on? You're starting to stink." He still looked uncertain. She rolled her eyes, leaned a little closer, and mashed her lips firmly against his. After one startled moment, he opened his mouth and she kissed him, deeply, as she whispered into his mind, **Logan. I love you. You didn't hurt me. And even if you did, I wouldn't leave you. I couldn't leave you, Logan. You are my world, my life. To leave you would be asking me to cut my own heart out. I couldn't do it. That's why I married you. Now stop being silly and come on.**

Jubilee broke the kiss first. Dazed, Logan took her hand, got up, and followed her out of the medlabs.

Jean and Hank watched them go, amazement written all over her face. She turned to Hank, only to see the same expression all over his. "It didn't even faze her," Jean shook her head. "They really are meant for each other."

Hank gathered up the instruments he'd used to check Jubilee out. "They are indeed," he said. "When Jubilee first joined us, I had my doubts…but she is a remarkable girl, Jean."

"No kidding," Jean said incredulously. "No damn kidding."


	9. Reflections Part 1

Title:           Reflections

Summary:   Xavier's thoughts on Jubilee and Logan's wedding day.

Warnings:  Kind of sad.

Rating:        G-general

Setting:       Chapter 11 of 'Love Lights Your Way'

Characters: Xavier, guest starring Logan/Jubilee, Jean

Reflections

                I must remember to thank Ororo for the lovely weather.

                It was nice of her to assure that Logan and Jubilee's wedding will not be spoiled by the inclement weather I can vaguely see hanging over Greenwich Village. Jubilee, I know, has already thanked Ororo for her consideration; she's standing over there now next to the groom, both posing for pictures. Logan has, I see, forgotten to fidget with his tie; and who could blame him?

                Jubilee is radiant, standing beside him there in the wedding dress she has taken such pains to keep hidden from him until this day. Logan has no eyes for anyone except her. It is as it should be; though I had my doubts about this relationship, they have fortunately been proven wrong.

                I wheel my chair back under the tents set up all around the green lawn. It's easier for me to move my personal transport…or as my X-Men have taken to calling it, my 'hoverchair…but as there are some non-mutant guests at this wedding, freedom of movement must be sacrificed to keep up the normal image. It is something like an inside joke that only the mutant guests at this wedding understand. Not that this is meant as an insult to the human guests; it is meant simply to shield them from knowledge for which they are not yet ready.

                Ororo is standing by the drinks table, talking quietly to Jubilee's big friend, Moose. He looks somewhat more relaxed, now, and even deigns to take a sip from the glass of champagne dwarfed in his large hand. Jubilee walks over and reaches up to hug him, and I hear her silvery laugh float through the air Again I find myself shaking my head at the sight of her standing next to him; they are so dissimilar! Then Jubilee swipes a shot glass from the table and downs it in one gulp. Okay, maybe not so dissimilar, after all. I laugh, and it attracts someone's attention.

                Jean says something to Scott telepathically, where he's standing next to Warren and Remy, working on a beer, then drifts over to where I sit with a glass of champagne in my hand. "Having a good time, Charles?" she asks me.

                I nod and take a sip. "Yes, Jean. The caterers outdid themselves; everything is excellent. Even down to the weather, which I must remember to thank Ororo for."

                Jean stands next to me, her mint-green bridesmaid's dress rustling softly as she turns to see who I am looking at. "Lovely bride, isn't she?" she says. "The dress was perfect. She looks perfect. And Logan is so in love with her. I'm so glad everything turned out all right for them in the end." She gives me a sidelong glance. "Even if Scott and I did nearly wreck it all."

                I smile. She's right. She and Scott had lectured Logan and Jubilee on the wisdom of becoming involved early on in the relationship; it had caused them to break up for a short period of time. Jubilee had been miserable…and Logan had disappeared. "You didn't wreck anything, Jean," I said. "If Logan and Jubilee weren't meant to be together, this day wouldn't be happening."

                "I guess you're right," Jean said. "But if Scott and I hadn't stuck our noses in where they didn't belong, Logan would have been with Jubilee when she went up to Professor Cohen's wedding upstate, and Sabretooth would never have had the chance to hurt her."

                "Water under the bridge, Jean," I start to say, but I'm interrupted by Betsy, who is calling Jean from the back door. There's a problem with the oven inside. Scott and Jean go back inside to take care of it, and I am left sitting alone with my thoughts again.

                Not for long. Logan comes over, beer in hand, and sits down in a chair beside me. "Somebody asks fer one more picture, I swear I'm gonna break their damn camera," he grumbles. I smile.

                "It doesn't look as though anyone's going to ask for any more," I tell him, and indeed it doesn't. Couples are already forming on the wide stretch of grassy lawn for the dancing, and the DJ is obligingly beginning to play some songs suitable for what passes for dancing these days. I shake my head. Whatever happened to the old-fashioned waltz? I see Hank out there, surprisingly, and at first I can't see who his partner is; then he turns, and I see Jubilee's friend Amanda Greene. That surprises me.

                Jubilee comes over. "Hi, Professor!" she says gaily, her blue eyes sparkling. She's almost glowing from within with happiness. For a fleeting, all too brief moment, I see the little girl I knew in the woman she's become. That smile is reminiscent of her younger days, before life grabbed her and put her through its forge. "Logan, come dance with me. Just one, please?"

                Logan never could resist her when she smiles like that. He puts his empty bottle down on the table and gets up to join his new wife on the green lawn. The other couples get out of the way for them.

                I take another sip of my champagne, hoping the bubbly, sparkling beverage will chase away the dark thoughts that crowd my mind as I think about the young girl I knew. Jubilee was always good at hiding her feelings. I don't think anyone knew how much she missed her parents; I don't think anyone knew all the things she keeps inside.

                Even when she was younger, she hid her fears, her self-doubts, and her sorrows behind Ray-Bans, bubblegum, and roller-blades. No one ever saw her cry, except Logan. He was the one she always ran to when she needed to talk; when she needed to cry, to let the emotions she kept so tightly under control slip out. And Logan was always there for her, a shoulder to cry on, to laugh on, to beat on when she got angry and needed to take it out on something…or someone. She talked to Jean; she talked to Ororo. But for something that really bothered her, she always went to Logan.

                And that's why I'm surprised now that Jubilee won't talk about what's bothering her even to Logan. Because I know there's still something inside her that's bothering her; I see it in her eyes, sometimes, when she wakes up in the morning. There's a haunted, anguished look in her eyes that has to do with the dreams she has, and I know, despite outward appearances, that she's not entirely all right. She hides it well. She's as close to her usual self during the day as she can be; or at least she pretends to be; even I have a hard time telling which is the case. She's very good at hiding her feelings.

                But when I touch her mind, I can see the walls she's built around portions of it, closing off the pain and anguish she feels from herself. She does it consciously, too; she knows it's there. But she won't acknowledge that the emotions are there; she buries it all deep inside her, as if, if she ignores it, she can forget it's there, and she won't have to deal with it. I've tried, tentatively, to bring up the subject, but she brushes it away and refuses to talk about it.

                I know what it is; it's Sabretooth. Logan's enemy might be physically gone, but he's still a large presence in her nightmares. She refuses to discuss it with anyone; she acts like it never happened. She had a brief relapse of pneumonia soon after she regained her memories, and when she recovered from that she acted as though nothing had happened. She ignored it. And that worries me, more than anything else. 

                Love is blind. Very, very blind. Logan can't see the shadows in her eyes; can't see the shadows in her mind, the uncertainty she feels. He doesn't see how she almost has to force herself to initiate physical intimacy between them. And he can't feel her pain. Jean, too, seems oblivious to it. But I can see, during the third week of the month, how much pain she feels, the pain that literally forces her to stay in bed during the worst of it. I've seen her swallowing overdoses of aspirin; never enough to kill her, or do her any harm, but enough to dull the agony in her body. I can feel the pain in her ribs and knees and other parts of her body when old injuries that didn't heal properly bother her. 

                I wish I knew what to do, what to say, to break the wall of silence that she has built up around herself as protection from the abuse she's suffered, first at Bastion's hands, then at Creed's. She's never talked about what happened to her at Creed's hands. Hank, Jean, and Logan don't feel she has to. The very fact that she had a miscarriage with Creed's baby speaks for itself, or so they think. But I know better.

                Creed did something to her. I'm not talking just about the physical, though I know that something happened that's so terrible she can't talk about it. It's mental. Creed said something to her (I hesitate to use the word 'brainwashed', though it's probably a more accurate term) that has made her believe something about herself that isn't true. I wish I knew what it was. I wish I knew what drives her from her bed at night, when everyone's asleep, to wander around the mansion. I've heard her go to her old room, just sit there, and cry as though her heart would break. I want to help her, but I'm helpless. I'm powerless to do it. I don't know how. I devoted so much of my energies toward gathering my X-Men together, and now I try to sit back and leave them alone. Jubilee in particular; she was so very young when she came to live here, and I had to sit back and let her make her own mistakes growing up, or she wouldn't be the woman she is today. But that policy of noninterference doesn't, shouldn't, apply now. It can't, or she'll never be whole.

                I hope that maybe her marriage to Logan will help her open up more. She can't keep all her sadness and pain bottled up. And she needs to stop hitting that aspirin bottle so heavily, and I'm not really happy with how much she drinks, either. Logan, thankfully, is keeping track of her bar habits (we've all been treated to an earful of choice words from her when he takes her keys and refuses to allow her to go out at night.) And so is her friend Max; if she defies Logan and goes out anyway, he calls Max and he will bring Jubilee back. She hates the fact that Logan 'watches over her', as she's told him at full volume many times, but I think that's a good thing. I think Jubilee knows in her heart that she needs to be watched over and taken care of. She needs someone to tell her she can't go out drinking.

                She needs someone to break that wall down and let out what's hiding behind it. She needs to acknowledge that pain, fear, anger, and misery before she can really move on with her life. At this point I don't think even she could break those walls around her mind. If she doesn't do it on her own soon, I'm going to have to corner her and do it myself. She needs to let out what's bothering her.

                And here she comes, smiling, and happy. There's no trace of the shadows today. She's just a delighted, happy woman marrying the man she loves today. So I'm not going to ruin the mood. There's a time and a place for all of that…and now is neither. I turn my thoughts away from the path they're on, and put a smile on as Jubilee walks toward me.


	10. Reflections Part 2

Title: Reflections, Part 2

Summary: Jubilee finally tells Xavier and Hank what happened to her when Creed kidnapped her.

Warnings: Slightly graphic, I toned it down a lot from the original draft. This is the (heavily!) edited version.

Rating: PG-13, borderline R

Setting: After Logan's and Jubilee's wedding

Characters: Logan/Jubilee, guest starring Hank and Charles.

Reflections, Part 2

                Jubilee reached for the handle of the bathroom mirror, her hands shaking. The pain in her stomach was so bad she felt like she was going to pass out. The bottle of aspirin in her night table drawer was almost empty; there were only three pills in it, and she knew it wasn't enough to hold off the cripplingly painful cramps in her belly.

                She'd have to go downstairs and get some, then. Jubilee reached out, barely able to see where she was going for the pained tears that filled her eyes, and hung on to the doorframe as she bent double, waiting for the wave of pain to pass. She was lucky that everyone was out today, especially Logan; otherwise she'd have to answer all kinds of awkward questions.

                She staggered upright, and managed to get all the way across the room to the bedroom door when the next wave of pain hit. She sank to her knees, choking back the sob of pain that tried to escape her lips. She'd waited too long to get her aspirin.

                Down the hall, now, and another pause at the top of the steps to allow another wave of pain to pass, then down the steps, as quickly as the throbbing in her stomach would allow her to move. She was almost at the foot of the steps when the pain hit again, and she cried out in shock and pain as her foot slipped and she slid down the last steps. She landed on the hard floor at the foot of the stairs, and doubled over in pain, curled up into herself as she fought off the waves of pain.

                In his study, Xavier heard the crash, then the sobs, loud in the silent mansion. He glided out of his study, and directed the hoverchair down the hall, toward the noise. What he saw shocked him; Jubilee, lying on the floor, curled up and obviously in agony by the way she was crying.

                "Jubilee," he said quietly, and the girl's head snapped up. "Jubilee, what's wrong?"

                "Uh, nothing, professor," she said to him, trying to smile. "Nothing. Just slipped, that's all." She got to her feet, clinging to the banisters white-knuckled, and almost made it when another burst of pain sent her back down on her knees crying. Xavier grabbed for her free hand, holding on to it as he dropped his shields and sent a questioning tendril of  thought into her mind.

                Her pain flooded his mind, and he doubled over with a groan as the pain she felt in her middle manifested as a 'ghost' pain in his belly. He pulled down his shields with an effort, then reached out a thought tendril in the opposite direction, calling, **Hank!!**

                Hank took the steps up from his basement labs two at a time, responding to the urgency of Xavier's call. He followed the tugging until he reached the hall, where he found Xavier clutching Jubilee's hand as the girl slumped at the foot of the banisters, sobbing in pain. "My stars and garters," he whispered, "What happened?" Without waiting for an answer, he picked Jubilee up in his arms as though she were no more than a child and carried her downstairs. Xavier joined him in the medlabs, having taken the elevator down.

                Jubilee curled up on the Shi'ar biobed, unaware of anything but the all-consuming pain in her stomach. She barely felt the needle enter her arm, delivering a painkiller intravenously, but she sighed as the pain in her middle receded moments later. "Jubilee, what happened?" Xavier said as Hank ran a scanner down her body. Jubilee wiped her eyes, sighed, and then pushed at Hank's hand. "It was just cramps, Hank, you don't really have to worry," she said.

                Hank pushed her back down on the bed. "Stay down there, young Jubilee," he said firmly. "I am going to find out what is wrong with you."

                "It's just cramps, really," she said. He looked at her sternly. 

                "Jubilation, that is the same thing you have said to me the other times you came in here in pain and begging for aspirin," Hank said severely. "You are _not_ leaving the medlabs until I know what is causing your pain."

                "No. Professor…" Jubilee turned pleading eyes toward Charles. "Please, I'm all right, I just need to lie down."

                Xavier held up a hand to forestall the lies he knew Jubilee was about to tell them. "Jubilee, you are not all right. This has been going on for some time now, since you came home. Hank, you don't need to scan her; Jubilee knows what is wrong with her. Don't you?"

                Jubilee bit her lip, refusing to meet Xavier's eyes. He captured her chin in his hand, leaning in close to look her in the eyes. Oh, there was so much pain and misery and anguish in there, and Jubilee didn't want to talk about it, that was plain. But Xavier was tired of seeing her pain, tired of seeing her withdraw into herself to hide what she was feeling, and he knew that all this suppression of emotion wasn't healthy. 

                "Yes…" Jubilee whispered finally, unable to lie to Xavier's face. "Yes, I know what's wrong."

                "Tell us." She stayed silent.

                Xavier dropped his hand. "Hank, the next time Jubilee comes to you for medication, don't give it to her. She's obviously not hurting enough to need it as badly as she says she does." He turned away, so Jubilee couldn't see the tears that filled his eyes at her soft moan. He didn't want to hurt her like this…but this had to stop. 

He was nearly at the door when Jubilee said, so softly he barely heard her, "All right." He turned back, to see her eyes fill with tears as she whispered, "It started hurting right after Creed raped me. He used a broken wood stick; I think maybe some splinters got…stuck in there…or something." She stared at the ceiling. "Every time I have cramps, it hurts so bad I have to take a lot of aspirin for it." A tear fell slowly from the corner of her eye as Hank brought the internal scanner to bear over her lower abdomen.

He stared in shock at whatever was on the screen. "Jubilee…can you tell me where it hurts?"

She gingerly brought a hand down over her belly to the left of her navel and down three inches. Hank's lips pressed into a thin line. Xavier went around to his other side to figure out what he was looking so grim about.

Xavier tried to hide his shock as he stared at the display on the scanner. The Shi'ar scanner worked very much like a sonogram machine, giving the one wielding it a fairly good picture of the patient's insides. The scanner's screen showed Jubilee's uterine wall, one ovary, and what looked like a solid white line through it. "Hank, what is that?"

"It's a wood splinter." He didn't say it softly enough.

Jubilee looked at him. "May I?" she held out her hand for the scanner. Hank hesitated, then handed it to her with the image frozen on the screen. She stared at it for long moments, silent, then dropped it on the bed beside her and rolled over on her side. She buried her face in the pillow and started to cry.

"Oh, God, oh God…why…why me, why is it always me?" she sobbed, as the two men watched her silently. "I hate him I hate him I hate him…I hate myself…Oh, God…He was right…It's my fault…I'm a whore…I'm asking for it, somehow…" Her hands came up, and they watched as she yanked her wedding ring from her finger and flung it away from her. It soared in a glittering arc through the air, and Xavier caught it as it sailed past his ear. Hank bent over her, stroking her back, but she flinched away from his touch.

"Jubilee," Hank finally said firmly, "This is nonsense. You never asked for this to happen. You are not a whore. Whatever gave you such an idea?"

Her face came out of the pillow, streaked with tears and flushed with crying. "Creed. He said…he said…he knew I'd been…raped…before…he said I must be asking for it, to let it happen to me again…and he was right, I must like it, my body…" She broke off, choking with sobs, and it was a few minutes before she could continue. "When he entered me the first time, in Moose's garage…my body…I started to…respond…when he entered me…it didn't hurt me so much because I was getting wet, do you understand, I was getting off on it…and Creed said Logan didn't deserve to have a _slut_ for a wife, he wouldn't want a _whore_ who couldn't keep her legs closed..." And Jubilee started to talk as the walls she'd built around her memories, around her mind, came tumbling down.

Xavier and Hank sat shocked as she finished. She wasn't crying anymore…she just lay there, on Hank's biobed, staring at the ceiling, her voice flat as she talked. Xavier now knew what she hid behind the walls…and he wasn't sure now that he wanted to know. The only consolation was that maybe now she'd be able to move past it. He slipped into her mind as he took her hand, and she didn't shy away from him, she didn't try to push him away. She curled over on her side, and leaned her head on his shoulder as she began to cry. Not the angry, racking, hurting sobs she'd choked out before, but softer, gentler, cleansing sobs as the last of the pain and misery she had trapped inside herself bled out. Xavier kissed her wet cheek gently, then said softly into her ear, "You are not a whore. You never asked for any of this."

Hank sat down on the other side of the bed, taking her other hand in his large blue one. "Jubilee," he said quietly. "If you wish, later, I can give you some texts to read…but I'll give you the short version now. Penetration into the female reproductive organs by anyone, or anything, will inevitably produce a biological reaction, even if the penetration was uninvited. It's a purely biological reaction, and though there were studies done on the effect of psychosomatic responses, this was proved not to be one. So don't blame yourself for any of it. None of it was your responsibility." As Hank spoke, Xavier reinforced his words with a feeling of conviction, a feeling that Hank was right, and none of it was her fault. He wouldn't normally tamper with someone's mind, but Jubilee needed this.

She lay there for long moments, her face buried in Xavier's shoulder, as her sobs quieted. "Now lie back," Hank said finally. "Jubilee, I'm going to give you something that's going to put you to sleep. You won't feel a thing while I remove that splinter. When you wake up, you'll never have to deal with that pain again. Okay?" She nodded, clinging tightly to Xavier's hand for comfort as the needle slipped into her arm. She was asleep before Hank even put the needle down.

"Is she going to be all right?" Xavier asked Hank.

"Physically she's going to be fine," he said, opening a drawer and getting out an assortment of instruments. "Mentally? You tell me that."

"She's going to be fine," Xavier said. "Now let me go wait for her husband."

Logan was looking for Jubilee when Xavier came into their bedroom, haunted by the feeling that something wasn't quite right. "Where's Jubilee?"

"She's down in the medlabs. She's going to be fine, as soon as Hank fixes her up." And very quietly, Charles told Logan what had happened to his wife. By the time he finished, Logan's fists were clenched in the bedspread, and his teeth were gritted. 

"If he wasn't a'ready dead, I swear, Charles, I'd go find him an' kill him myself," he swore explosively, pacing the room like an angry tiger. "Jubilee ain't nobody's…" he stopped, unable to say the ugly words. "She's my girl, my wife. Ain't nothin' gonna change that."

"When she wakes up, I suggest you have a talk with her," Xavier said. "She has been most reluctant to tell you about this because she's afraid you won't love her anymore if you find out what happened. Talk to her. Reassure her that you love her, no matter what's happened, and you always will. I tried to tell her, but she really needs to hear it from you." He gave Logan Jubilee's wedding ring.

*                                                              *                                                              *

                Jubilee sighed softly, and opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Logan sitting in a chair beside her bed, asleep, with his hand gripping hers. She wanted to pull away, knowing that Xavier would have told Logan everything, but as soon as her hand moved, he woke. For a moment, they just looked at each other, Jubilee afraid she was going to hear the words 'I don't love you' and Logan, trying to say what he wanted to say and failing. He'd never been good with words.

                "I love you," he said finally, simply, and held his hand out to her. She saw, glittering in his palm, her ring. He took her hand, and gently slipped the ring back on. "Jubilee, will ya marry me?"

                She began to laugh a bit hysterically. "Logan, didn't we already do this?" she said.

                "Yeah," he said. "I just…I guess…what I'm tryin' ta say is…Jubes, I love ya. Nothin's gonna change that. Yer my wife, now and always. I don't care what happened ta ya before. None of it was yer fault. Never feel like it was. Ya didn't ask fer none o' this. If anything, I'm the one who should feel guilty, 'cause Creed an' I had a long-standin' feud, an' ya jus' got caught in the middle o' it. Will ya fergive me?"

                "Of course." Jubilee held out her arms, and Logan wrapped his arms around her. She was so fragile, and so strong. To have suffered everything she did, and still be able to forgive, love and move on…he loved her, and he would hurt anyone who ever dared touch her again.


	11. Scars

Title: Scars

Summary: I can't summarize this one. I don't know how to describe it. Just read it, please.

Warnings: This is a very dark fic. I cried. You might, too.

Rating: PG-13 for adult topics

Setting: after Reflections Part 1 and 2

Characters: Jubilee/Logan, guest starring Jean

Scars

                Jean poked her head inta our room. "Hey Jubilee, Logan," she said. "The rest of us are going swimming. Do you want to come?"

                Jubilee was sittin' at her desk, workin' on another o' her papers. She was scribblin' in a notebook while consultin' a thick physics text, and didn't even look up. "No," she said.

                Jean looked surprised. "Are you sure?"

                "Yes," Jubilee said. Jean shrugged an' closed the door.

                I was hot, though. I woulda welcomed a dip in the pool. Jubilee usually loved swimmin', an' today was the perfect day fer it. It hadda be at least ninety degrees outside. An' here Jubilee was, sittin' here workin' on one o' her papers when I jus' knew she hadda be dyin' under her long jeans an' long-sleeved shirt. I got up. "Jubes," I asked her, "Are ya sure ya won't come?" 

                "I'm fine," she said. "Go on." But she was sweating. "I want to get this done."

                I shrugged. I'll never understand women.

*                                                              *                                                              *

                I was sittin' out on the side porch, facin' the pool and thinkin' 'bout Jubes later. The evenin' was still sticky, but the dip in the pool had cooled me down some. I still couldn't understand why she didn't come earlier. She loved the pool. She loved swimmin'. So why hadn't she come?

                Unable ta figure her out, I let it go fer a while an' sat there, jus' watchin' the fireflies wink in and out among the trees. I had jus' 'bout decided I was goin' in when I heard a door close. Very quietly.

                No one but me woulda heard it. My sensitive hearin' picked up that sound, and I narrowed my eyes, focusin' on the side door ta the mansion. A second later a figure slipped outta the shadows and headed fer the pool. With that killer figure and small frame, it could only be one other person; Jubilee.

                She vaulted the low fence surroundin' the perimeter of the pool. I could see a lot o' bare leg, an' that made my mouth water, but she was also wearin' one of my T-shirts. Now, I don't mind that she borrowed one o' my shirts, but I was curious. She's never gone swimmin' with a T-shirt before.

                She executed a neat, shallow dive inta the pool, an' came up a few minutes later, drippin' water and lookin' like some water nymph. Moonlight silvered the water streamin' off her, outlinin' her body with lines o' gleamin' silver sparkles. She dove back in, swam the length o' the pool, and came out the other end. Then she took a few deep breaths an' dove underwater.

                She loves swimmin' underwater. She said to me once it was so peaceful bein' underwater, sounds muffled and nothin' touchin' her skin but water. She's developed a touch o' claustrophobia after her encounter with Creed; after seein' the crate he kept her imprisoned in, I can understand that.

                She don't come up right away, but I ain't really worried. The first time she did that it scared the hell outta me; then she explained that with her ability ta manipulate molecules, she can keep takin' oxygen from the water an' push it inta her lungs, so she can stay underwater far longer'n most people can. I called her a mermaid, once; it made her laugh.

                She does come up fer air eventually, though; an' she grabs her towel as she pulls off that T-shirt. My jaw drops, an' I'm glad no one else sees me gapin' at her like a beached whale. She's ain't wearin' nothin' but that T-shirt. Skinny-dippin' in the pool? I wish I'd followed her in, but it's too late now. She's headin' in.

                I reach the bedroom a few minutes after she does. I peek in 'round the door, which she's accidentally left just the tiniest bit open. Not that anyone'd walk in without knockin' first; well, maybe one o' the girls, but I'm sure they've all seen each other nude lots o' times. There are open showers in the locker rooms, after all.

                She's pulled off the T-shirt, and she's standin' in front of the mirror nude. At first, all I can see is all that bare skin; then I watch her eyes fill with tears in the mirror as her finger traces the white line printed indelibly across the curve of her breast. An' the reason for her behavior today becomes clear.

                Her scars.

                I knew she was touchy 'bout 'em. She's avoided wearin' her usual cutoffs and tank tops, now that I think o' it; since the warm weather's just started, it ain't as noticeable; but she's also made sure the lights are off when we make love. I didn' know they bothered her this much.

                She touches the white skin on the inside o' her thighs, where huge areas o' her skin were rubbed off. I still don't know what happened; Jubilee won't tell me 'bout it, but whatever Creed did, he rubbed off all the skin there. The white, scarred skin goes all the way up her thighs ta her loins. She used ta shave herself, but it ain't necessary any longer; body hair don't grow there anymore.

                She turns, so she can see the scars on her back reflected in the mirror. She flinches at the sight, an' tears fill her pretty blue eyes. I feel 'em gather in my eyes, too, an' I blink 'em away furiously. Jubilee's back is criss-crossed with white lines, some thick, some thin; the thin ones from Creed's claws, the thick ones from the rope she tol' me Creed whipped her with. The lines go down ta her backside, an' then wrap 'round her front. The smooth outline o' her body is ruined here by an indent in her skin right on top o' her  hipbone. I seen that shape o' scar before; an' it hurts ta see it on my girl. Creed bit her there, right over her hip. The tattoo she was so happy 'bout, the tattoo o' a rose with my name over it, is gone. She touches the spot where it used ta be, an' the tears spill down her cheeks. Even if she had cosmetic surgery done, it ain't gonna cover that chunk o' missin' flesh. Nothin' can. She's gonna carry that mark on her hip 'til the day she dies.

                She sits down on the bed, sobbin' like her heart's gonna break, an' I want ta go in there an' comfort her, but I don't. I can sympathize, but I can't empathize. I have a healin' factor. I'll never have scars like that; I'll never have any marks on my body that I have ta carry fer the rest o' my life. I wish Jubilee had a healin' factor too…then she wouldn't have ta either. 

Damn Creed. My hands curl inta fists. If she hadn't killed him herself, I woulda. And if I had, he wouldn't'a died on thick ice in the middle of the damned Hudson River; I'd'a tortured him like he tortured my Jubes. I'd'a sliced, diced, an' cut him up like he cut her; hurt him like he hurt her; made him scream just like Jubilee musta screamed when he left the wounds that scarred her body so terribly. His world woulda been nothin' but agonizin' pain, just as hers was; everythin' she felt, every tear she cried, every scream he tore from her throat I'd'a torn from his own mouth, an' more. If I'd'a had him, I'd'a broken him like he broke her. 

She don't show it, but she ain't the same girl that came home a year ago. I still see shadows in her eyes, shadows of pain, an' o' the darkness in her soul. I see it in my own eyes sometimes when I look at myself in the mirror, and rage boils up in me. I'm strong. I can handle anythin' the world has ta throw at me; I've proven that, time an' time again. But she ain't made o' the same stuff I am; she can't handle that. It's a friggin' miracle she survived all she has and still has her sanity. None o' the other girls, not 'Ro, not Jean, they wouldn't'a been able ta survive what my girl's been through. An' fresh in my mind, as painful as though it's been jus' yesterday, I still see the blank look in her eyes when she stood up there on that bridge with Creed's claws at her throat. Whatever he did, he hurt her so bad he broke her spirit, an' she ain't been the same. She ain't never gonna be the same. The scars on her body ain't nothin' compared ta the scars on her soul. An' it hurts me more'n I'm ever gonna admit ta anyone, knowin' I can't do nothin' ta help ease her pain. All I can do is love her, an' hope it'll be enough.

                I have ta go shred somethin'. Thinkin' 'bout Creed hurtin' my Jubes has pissed me off. I stop off at Jean and Scott's room; fortunately ol' One Eye's off somewhere. Jean's brushin' her hair. I don't trust myself ta speak; I jerk my thumb behind me, toward our bedroom. Jean understands; she heads fer the door. Me, I'm goin' somewhere where I can work off the temper; not the Danger Room, but ta the gym, where I can beat up the punchin' bag usin' nothin' but my fists an' my temper.

*                                                              *                                                              *

                The swim felt as good as I thought it would; it's been unseasonably hot today. The water's cool, and the quiet is welcome. I swam for a while underwater; there's an odd sense of peace under there that I can't find anywhere else. It's not fun; fun would have been being in here with the others. Fun would have been making love in the pool with Logan. But I'm not in the mood today.

                I take off the wet T-shirt, glad that I didn't run into anyone on the way back up to my room. I try not to look in the mirror, but the white lines on my body draw my eyes to it and I touch the one on my breast, the one Creed left when he dragged one of his claws through the skin. It's faded out; no longer an angry red, it's become a pale white, just a few shades lighter than my own skin. It's not noticeable now, but as summer goes on and my skin acquires that golden tan color from the sun, it's going to stand out like a neon light. The thought makes me ill. 

My eyes travel down my body to the white, scarred skin between my thighs. I touch it involuntarily. The scar feels smooth under my fingertips. It doesn't hurt anymore, for which I'm thankful. If it still hurt as badly as it did when Creed shoved the knotted rope between my thighs and dragged it back and forth until my skin was sanded away, I would have committed suicide by now just to get away from the excruciating agony.

 I turn, to see the lines on my back. For a moment, I don't see the mirror, and the comfortable, familiar surroundings of the bedroom; instead, I see the warehouse, all that dark, empty space that I'm hanging in the middle of, and I see Creed, swinging that heavy rope at me again. It burns as it streaks across my back, the same place several times in a row, so he can make sure that I'll scar. He wanted to ruin me for Logan; I'm just very, very lucky that Logan still loves me, even though I look so ugly. Tears fill my eyes. 

I'm lucky that he didn't slash my face, or something like that. The tears gathering in my eyes spill down my cheeks unnoticed as I touch the deep indentation on my hip where Creed bit me. I still remember screaming as he ripped away the chunk of skin that I had Logan's name tattooed on; it hurt as his teeth scraped against my hipbone. Just the memory of it makes me want to cry. That dent will never go away. I'm planning on saving the proceeds from my next paper to go and have cosmetic surgery done, to remove the scars Creed left all over my body just like Bastion did, but no cosmetic surgeon in the world is going to be able to re-grow the missing flesh. 

I sit down on the bed heavily, no longer able to stop the tears flooding down my cheeks. I do feel better since I told Charles and Hank what happened; letting it out did help me deal with it. And just in time, too; long-sleeved shirts might have gone unnoticed in the winter, but it definitely would have been noticed once warmer weather got here. But long sleeves were the only way I could hide the lines on my wrists where I've been cutting myself. Logan has no idea how much his love has helped me; if he rejected me, if he stopped loving me, I would have already slashed my wrists open and bled to death. He doesn't know. I didn't tell him…I didn't tell anyone…about the razor blades hidden in the bottom of my overnight bag, and what I do with them. I don't know if anyone could understand the feeling of self-hatred I carry around with me. Deep inside, I know I wasn't the whore Creed told me I was. He may have forced me to say it by hurting me until I did, he may have forced me to repeat it over and over again, but I knew I wasn't.

How does the old saying go? 'What the heart knows, sometimes the head forgets?' My heart knew I wasn't a whore, a slut, but my head had been convinced that it was true, that I couldn't keep my legs closed. And then the miscarriage…I'm glad the doctor put me to sleep. When I woke up, it was all over. If it had been Logan's child, I would have been ready to go through all that pain and misery, but not for Creed. He put me through enough, damn it.

There's a sudden movement at my room door, and I only distantly register the fact that I must have left the door open a bit, because I swear Jean didn't turn the knob when she came in. She sat down on the end of the bed and wrapped her arms around me, like she used to when I was thirteen, and she projects a blanket of sympathy and caring warmth around my mind even as she wraps my towel around my suddenly cold body. And just like that, I fall apart. We sit like that for a long time, me crying into her shoulder as my body shakes with sobs, and suddenly I'm not twenty-three anymore, and she's not thirty-three. I'm thirteen again, and she's twenty-three, comforting a lonely, scared orphan newly arrived in a strange house with strange people, cursed with powers I didn't understand. Jean's shoulder was the first female one I'd cried on since my mother's death. After a while, I tear my mind away from my own misery long enough to realize she's crying, too. I get myself under control, push away from her, and wipe my tears away with the edge of the towel, then reach over and wipe hers away too. "I'm sorry," I say.

"Don't be," she says with a watery smile, taking the edge of the towel and drying the rest of her face. "You needed that."

"Yeah," I say, suddenly surprised. The pall of gloom I've had hanging over my head the last day or so has lifted, and I can even smile a little as I wrap the towel around my nude body and get up to get dressed. I put on panties, bra, then my satin pajama bottoms and matching top. Jean looks away until I'm decently covered (more to preserve my sense of modesty than anything else; she's seen everything under my clothes more than once. Hell, we've all seen each other nude. The open showers in the locker rooms aren't exactly conducive to modesty, after all…which is why I've been showering in Logan's and my bathroom after training sessions.) Jean picks at a thread in the bedspread as I put the wet towel in the laundry hamper. 

"I didn't know they bothered you that badly, Jubilee," she says quietly.

I sigh, and sit down on the bed again, hugging my knees to my chest. "It's just vanity, I suppose," I say, trying to make light of what is, for me, not a light topic. Jean doesn't buy it; she knows me too well. She gives me that sidelong look that tells me I'm being naughty.

"It's not just vanity," she says. "They really bother you. You have to understand something, Jubilee; you don't look ugly to us, or to Logan. When we look at you, we don't see scars. We see the girl we've watched grow up, the girl we've all helped raise. It hurts having you wrap your pain around yourself and avoid talking about it. It hurts seeing the scars on your wrist where you hurt yourself, where you cut yourself, and have you reject the hand we reach out to help you."

I stare at her blankly. "You all knew?"

"I don't know about anyone else, but Ororo and I both did. We saw the cuts one morning when you were doing breakfast dishes. You have no idea how many nights I sat on the edge of my bathtub just on the other side of the wall from you, and monitored you telepathically to make sure you didn't go all the way. You came really close, once, after you and Logan had a fight. I slipped into your mind and knocked you out, then came in to get you up off the floor. I kept you asleep while I stopped the bleeding, then got you into bed. When you woke up the next morning you thought it was a dream, didn't you?"

I nod. "Jubilee, I've been your surrogate mother for years now. It's very hard to get anything by me. Would you have been able to get this by your mother, if she were alive?"

Guilt washes over me. My mother would have had fits. It would have hut her more to know that I was keeping things from her than it would have hurt for me to go straight to her and tell her outright that I needed help. And Jean must feel the same way. She nods as I look up at her. "It hurts me the same way," she says. "And Ororo, too. We tried to talk to you, so many times; but you always walked away. You refused to let us help. You're a grown woman, now; we can't force you to accept our help the way we could when you were younger. So we did the only thing we could to make us feel better while we waited for you to open up and ask."

The only thing I can think of to say is, "I don't do it anymore."

Jean nods. "I know you don't. Not since Hank did your surgery." She looks at me. "Jubilee, I know it isn't any of my business, but do you still have the razors? Just so I know if I still have to worry about them."

I lean over the bed and pull out the overnight bag stored under it. I open it, and take out the packet of razor blades hidden in its pocket. I drop it into Jean's hand. "I don't have them anymore," I say, shoving the bag back under the bed. Jean looks at it for a while, quietly, then reaches over to me and hugs me. 

"Thank you," she says, and I hear her swallow a lump in her throat. "We love you, Jubilee."

I hug her back. "Thanks, Jean."

She gets up. "Now, if you're feeling better, there's someone downstairs in the gym you need to talk to. Logan saw you in here; he told me. That's what brought me in here. You need to clear things up with him."

I swing my legs off the bed. "I'll go see him now."

*                                                              *                                                              *

                I'm towelin' off, sweatin' an' exhausted, when I look up an' see her in the doorway. She's wearin' her pajamas, an' a smile on her face. Her eyes are once again clear; there's no more o' the pain an' misery in 'em that I saw earlier. Talkin' ta Jean musta done her some good then. I'm glad. I open my arms, an' she rushes inta 'em, ignorin' the sweat that slicks my skin. She hugs me so tight I imagine my ribs creakin'. I don't mind a bit. I'm glad she's feelin' better. My fingers tangle in her hair as I hug her to me. "Feelin' better, Jubes?"

                She nods. "I'm sorry, Logan," she says. "I know you don't mind the scars…but I do."

                "Darlin', it ain't 'bout what I like or don't like," I tell her. "You gotta live with yerself. You do whatever makes ya happy. If ya wanna get the scars removed, then do it. I'm still gonna love ya whatever ya choose ta do."

                "Thank you," she says, her voice muffled by the fact that she's buried her head in my chest hair. Then she sniffs. "Boy, do you need a shower."

                I laugh, an' together we leave the gym.


	12. Healing, Part 1

Title:           Healing Part 1

Summary:   Logan finds out Jubilee's been cutting herself.

Warnings: Dark. I cried. Seems to be a trend, with the last couple of stories. Sorry, that's just the way things turned out.

Rating:        PG-13, borderline R

Setting:       After Reflections, both parts.

Characters: Logan/Jubilee, guest starring Xavier, Jean, and Ororo

Note to Readers: The second part of this has been written. I have, however, some qualms about posting it on this site, as it's a bit graphic. This is a democracy; I will post the second part of this if enough people want to read it. So just drop a note in your review telling me if you think I should post it. Thanks!-Jae

Healing Part 1 

                Logan opened his eyes lazily to see the early dawn sunlight brightening the blue pattern on the bedspread. He lay for a moment, soaking in the rare moment of peace before rolling over and heading for the bathroom.

                The water was running in the bath, and he grinned as he poked his head around the door. Jubilee sat in the tub, up to her chest in bubbles, with a set of headphones on her ears and her Walkman on the bathtub ledge. She was singing to herself softly as she ran a shaving razor down her white, foam-covered legs. Logan pulled his head back into the bedroom, stripped off his T-shirt and boxers, then walked into the bathroom. Jubilee looked up as the air currents cleared the steam from the bathroom air, and reached forward, shutting off the water and removing the headphones. "Was I being too loud? I didn't mean to wake you," she said. Logan stepped into the tub, let the heat of the water soak into his feet, then slowly lowered the rest of himself into the water. 

                Baths were a luxury he didn't often allow himself. For most of his life…or what he remembered as his life…he'd been a loner, a drifter, moving from place to place, taking only what he could carry and earning just enough money to scrape by from bets on bar fights and truck stops. He thought he was happy with that.

                Then Chuck had changed all that. He'd brought Logan here, to these spacious, opulent surroundings, installed him in a room that was better than any dive he'd ever been in, and provided meals and everything he needed. And in return, all he asked was that Logan risk his life to protect humanity and be part of a team. Logan had agreed, reluctantly, though he still felt the need to get out once in a while and live the life he had been accustomed to for who knew how long. 

                But he'd gradually begun thinking of the mansion as home. He'd started to look forward to 'coming home'. And then Chuck brought in a wisecracking, smart-ass teenager who just attached herself to him. She was like an itch he couldn't scratch, a thorn in his side, but he'd also found himself growing attached to the little girl. He tried to justify it by telling himself she had her uses; but he couldn't deny to himself that he was getting attached to her. Then she saved his life in Australia, and he realized that, for better or worse, she was irretrievably tied to her. Now he was married to her, and she was going to be a part of his life forever. For the rest of her life.

                He wouldn't have it any other way.

                He relaxed in the hot bath, batting away the bubbles that rose around him as Jubilee went on shaving her legs and humming softly to herself. He squinted through the steamy haze and looked closely at the razor, then reached over and snapped off the Walkman. Jubilee looked up at him, surprise written all over her face, and he grinned as he plucked the headset off her head and held up the razor. "I thought I'd talked to ya 'bout usin' my razor ta shave yer legs," he said.

                She blushed a charming pink. 'Mine's dull," she said. "I nicked myself twice. I didn't think you'd mind…I'll go out today and get refills for it when I get new ones for mine, okay?" She reached one soapy hand up for the razor. Water streamed down her arm, washing away the bubbles that had hidden her skin, and Logan saw the scabs marring the pale skin on the inside of her wrists. They hadn't gotten there by accident. He knew that.

                He dropped the razor and grabbed her wrist before she could drop her arm back under the water. "Jubes…" he whispered. He grabbed her other arm, looked at the red scabs. "What have ya done?"

                She looked down, her face suddenly pale. "I'm sorry, Logan," she said. "I didn't want you to see that." She tried to pull her wrists out of his grip, but Logan was suddenly angry. He refused to let her go. 

                "Jubilee," he growled angrily. "Don't try ta brush it off. What the hell have you been doin' ta yerself!?" He shook her roughly. "Don't ya think ya been hurt by other people enough? Why the hell're ya hurtin' yerself?"

                Jubilee refused to look directly at him. She stayed silent, although she shrank into herself almost visibly at his words. Logan was too angry to care. He shook her again. "God damn it, Jubes, why the hell'd ya marry me if all yer gonna do is kill yerself? I love ya. I thought ya loved me. Ya gonna kill yerself an' make me mourn ya, like I mourn fer every other woman I've ever loved before?" He dropped her wrists in disgust. "No freakin' wonder yer razor's dull." He hauled himself, dripping, from the tub and marched out of the bathroom, ignoring her soft cry.

                "Logan, wait!" Jubilee reached out to him, trying to stop him, but he didn't look back. She scrambled to her feet and sprang out of the tub, ignoring the wet footprints she left on the blue carpet of the bedroom floor. "Logan, wait, please, let me explain…"

                He yanked a shirt from the dresser drawer and pulled it over his head, not looking at her. "Jubilee, we're married. Ya know what that means? It means we don't keep secrets from each other. It means we share everythin'; the joys, the sorrows, the ups an' downs, the happiness, and the pain." He turned to look at her. "See this?" he held up his hand, the gold wedding band wrapped around it. "When I put this on an' stood in front o' everybody an' swore I'd love ya forever, I meant it. I thought ya knew that. I thought ya understood what that meant. I guess ya don't." He stared at her, and Jubilee saw the tears in his eyes he refused to shed as he yanked the ring off and dropped it on the dresser top. "If ya don't value our vows enough ta keep 'em, then we ain't married." He jammed his feet into his shoes and slammed the door on his way out of the room.

                He was on his way into the kitchen when he heard voices. Jean and 'Ro. He didn't want to see them right now; he didn't want to see anyone. He turned away from the kitchen door and was about to go off to the garage, get on his bike, and leave the way he used to when he heard a voice in his head. **Logan. Come into the kitchen. We need to talk to you.** The voice was Jean's.

                For a brief moment he considered continuing on, ignoring Jean's call, but that option was abruptly taken away from him by the appearance in his path of Xavier. Charles raised an eyebrow. "Jean is calling," he said mildly. "Aren't you going to go in?"

                Logan turned, yanked open the kitchen door, and stomped inside. He'd hear whatever Red had to say, then leave. There was nothing Jean could say that would change his mind.

                He sat down at the kitchen table across from Ororo and Jean, crossed his arms, and slumped into the chair. "Say what ya gotta say, Red," he growled. "Then let me go. I ain't gonna stay married ta some selfish little girl who don't keep her promises."

                Jean tossed something across the table. It landed a few inches in front of him, and he reached over reluctantly and picked it up. It was a packet of razor blades. He stared at her in puzzlement, anger put aside for the moment. "What's this?"

                Jean sat down at the table. "Jubilee gave it to me last night," she said. "While you were in the gym. Think about that for a moment."

                He did. He knew it wasn't possible to cut one's wrist with the type of shaving razor Jubilee used; she had to have used something else. And if she'd given this to Jean…

                Jean saw the comprehension in his eyes, and nodded. "Jubilee was using those to cut her wrists. I live in the room next to you both, Logan, do you think I didn't know? I lost count of how many nights I sat awake, waiting to hear her get up after you'd gone to sleep, walk into her bathroom, and cut her wrists. I kept an eye on her all that time, Logan. She never cut herself deep enough to kill herself. She knew that would hurt you if she died. She never seriously meant to kill herself."

                "Then why'd she do it?" Logan turned the packet of blades over and over in his hands, staring at the thin slivers of metal inside it, wondering how Jubilee could hurt herself deliberately with them.

                Jean sighed. "It's complicated." At Logan's look, she sighed again. "In Jubilee's case, I think she was…is…hurting terribly inside. And she had to find some sort of outlet for that pain. Cutting her wrists was her way of showing the pain she felt inside outwardly."

                "She's still in pain?" he whispered. He understood what Jean was trying to say. "Why couldn't she tell me?"

                "One, she was not yet ready to reveal her pain," Ororo said quietly. "And two, it is not easy for her to discuss what happened to her at Sabretooth's hands to you."

                "Why?" Logan was stunned at the realization. He loved her; why didn't she feel like she could discuss anything with him? Especially about Creed…His fist clenched around the packet.

                "Because of that." Xavier motioned to his fist. Logan slowly unclenched it, and Jean shoved a napkin under his hand to catch the blood that dripped from his palm. He'd shattered the tiny, thin plastic case the razors were stored in and cut his hand on the shards. "Because every time Creed's name is mentioned, Logan, you get angry. Jubilee is a telepath; she can sense your anger. She understands that the anger isn't directed at her…but when you get angry it clouds your ability to listen." 

Jean said, "Logan, you can't expect her to talk, to deal with her pain and yours, and deal with your anger as well as her own all at once. _I_ can't do that. I don't think you could, either. Don't ask her to do something you couldn't even do, because she's desperate now, she's willing to do almost anything to keep your love, even if it means ripping herself apart in the process. Which is what has been happening; she needs to get it all off her chest, but she can't talk to you, and she's trying desperately to keep herself together until you're ready to listen. And in the meantime she's stretching herself emotionally thin, like a rubber band. You have to calm yourself to listen to her before she snaps."

Jean took the razors from Logan's hand and wiped his hand with the napkin. His healing factor had gone to work, efficiently, and there was no trace of the cuts, though the nerves were still jumping from the pain. "She will not cut herself again, Logan. You didn't give her time to explain…but the scabs on her wrists are old ones. She hasn't cut herself for a week now, since Hank performed the surgery to remove the splinter from her body. Think, Logan. If she meant to use them again she wouldn't have given them to me."

He stared at them, then silently curled up and leaned his head on his folded arms on the table. For a while the kitchen was silent, except for the ticking of the clock. He finally understood. No, he couldn't expect Jubilee to talk to him when all he did was get angry. Just like he'd gotten angry with her when she'd tried to explain to him in the bathroom. He raised his head and looked at Jean and Xavier. "Can't you go inta my head an' suppress my emotions till she's done talkin'?"

Jean rolled her eyes, and her voice sharpened. "Logan, Jubilee is a damn telepath. She'd sense me in your head. When she starts talking, she's going to let all her barriers down; and she'll sense me in your head. Logan, don't you understand? Has anything gotten through your thick skull? Jubilee needs _you_. Not me, not Charles, not Ororo. _You. You_ have to find the self-control in you to listen, and not get angry. If you can't do that for the woman you love, then maybe your marriage was a mistake." Jean slammed the kitchen door on her way out. Ororo patted Logan's shoulder and followed Jean out, closing the door with less force than the redhead had.

Xavier said into the sudden silence, "Maybe you need to get all your anger out before you can deal with hers. Logan, please talk to me."

Logan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Damn it, Chuck, I don't know what to say! Jean asked me ta talk ta her when Jubes was in the medlabs with pneumonia, an' I didn't know what to say then, either! What do ya all wanna hear me say? That I hate Creed? Yeah, I hate him. I want that bastard in my hands so I can torture him. I wanna let my animal side out on him. I wanna hear him scream like he made my wife scream. I wanna cause him as much hurt as he caused her. I wanna hear him scream, I wanna hear him cry, I wanna hear him beg! I wanna hear him beg for me to stop his pain, like Jubilee begged him to stop hers. I want to bite a chunk of his skin out like he ripped Jubilee's hip. Ya know what I want most of all, Chuck? I wanna rip a new hole in his ass, so I can shove my claw in it an' rape him on my damn claw like he raped Jubilee with the damn stick." 

Logan smashed his fist down on the kitchen table, biting his lip hard as he let out all the pent-up anger and frustration he was feeling. "She's hurtin'. Ya think I can't see that? I see the way she moves, the way she kinda curls up whenever the subject comes up. And her hurt jus' makes me madder. I can't listen ta her, cause all I hear when she starts talkin' is the sound o' her screamin' in pain, an' I wanna rip Creed up. I can't stand seein' Jubilee in pain. I wanna stop it…and I don't know how. I always been able ta do whatever I wanted ta do…but now I find somethin' I gotta do, I haveta do, and I ain't got the faintest idea how I'm supposed ta do it! There, is that what ya wanna hear, Chuck?"

"Yes," Xavier said quietly, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Yes, that's what I wanted to hear. How do you feel now? Do you feel like you can go talk to Jubilee now?"

Logan took a deep breath to start yelling again…and realized that there was an empty place inside him where the anger and fury and helpless feelings had been. He just couldn't get the anger up again to start yelling. He frowned. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I could."

"Then do so." And Xavier glided away.


	13. Healing, Part 2

Title:          Healing, Part 2

Summary:  Logan finally finds out what Creed did to Jubilee.

Warnings: CAUTION VERY GRAPHIC

Rating:        R

Setting:       After Healing, Part 1

Characters: Logan/Jubilee, guest starring Jean, Ororo, and Charles

Note to Readers: This could also be categorized as NC-17. There is a graphic description of nonconsensual sex. If this offends anyone, please let me know, and I will take it down and relegate it to 'on request only' status. Let me know, please, before you go to the webmaster and report my ratings violation. There's no need to kick me off…I know very well I'm skating on thin ice with this one…both with my readers and with the host site. Again, my apologies if I've offended anyone!-Jae

Healing, Part 2

                Logan climbed the stairs slowly to the bedroom, and pushed the door open. "Jubilee?"

                She was sitting on the floor exactly where he'd left her an hour ago, still nude, her hair still damp from the bath, which, he was certain, was now cold. He picked up a towel and wrapped it around her shoulders, which were shaking from a combination of sobs and cold. He carried her over to the bed, still rumpled from the night's sleep, and laid her down on it. He slipped off his clothes quickly and got into bed beside her, pulled the blankets up to cover both of them, and just sat there for a while, running his fingers through her damp tangled hair. His body heat finally seeped into her cold skin, and when she stopped crying and shivering, he slid out of bed and grabbed her hairbrush. He stroked it through her hair, patiently untangling the long locks. She finally broke the silence.

                "I'm sorry, Logan." Her voice was just barely above a whisper. "Please, please don't leave me. I can't live without you. I won't cut myself again. I'll never mention any of it again, I promise, just don't leave me."

                He continued to brush her hair, and pitched his voice low, to calm her. "I ain't goin' nowhere, Jubes. An' I'm sorry fer not listenin' ta ya. I was so angry I couldn't see how much ya needed me ta be there fer ya. An' I didn't try ta let go o' that anger; I just kept hangin' onta it, like the stubborn ass I was. I'm sorry, darlin'." He was silent as he worked a particularly thick tangle out of her hair, and then said, "If you need ta talk, I'm listenin'."

                Jubilee dropped her mental shields, and Logan felt her emotions as though they were his own. Pain…oh, dear Lord, so much pain, both mental and emotional, and he didn't wonder, now, why she cut herself. The physical pain she inflicted on herself distracted her from the emotional pain she felt inside. "Jubes," he said, then stopped. He needed to listen rather than talk.

                Jubilee played with a loose thread on the bedspread. "I didn't even think," she said. "When Creed broke into Moose's garage, I was frozen. Creed just grabbed Moose and broke his arms as easily as I would break a twig. Then he threw a collar at me and told me to put it on. I hesitated…and Creed smashed Moose's knee. I grabbed it and I put it on. Creed told me later that if I'd really been anxious to avoid him and the pain I knew he could inflict on me, I would have shorted out the collar before I put it on, and then he wouldn't have had a chance to hurt me. But I didn't. I put the collar on, and he threw Moose aside like he was just a …a broken doll… and he was on top of me."

                "Creed…Logan, my God, he was…" her voice choked, and Logan put the brush down to hug her tightly. She gulped. "Logan, he was huge. Bastion wasn't that big; you're not that big. It felt like he was ripping me apart. The pain…it was worse than Bastion, taking my virginity." She was silent for a moment, and her voice was steadier when she continued. "I vaguely remember Moose screaming at Creed to leave me alone. He had to lie there, in pain himself, while Creed ripped my clothes off and assaulted me. I was in so much pain I didn't even think about his; I just screamed and screamed and screamed. I passed out, finally, when he…came inside me."

                She took a deep shuddering breath, and Logan hugged her tighter. He didn't feel any anger; just sadness, and anguish. "When I woke up, we were in the warehouse. He handcuffed me and hung me from a hook over a ceiling beam, then he picked up a long piece of rope and knotted it several times. Then he ran it between my legs and just sawed it back and forth until I was screaming. It burned, and when he stopped, I saw strips of my skin clinging to the rope, and blood. My blood. It was everywhere. He took another piece of rope and whipped me. It burned me and I was hurting and I couldn't make him stop it, no matter how I screamed and begged he wouldn't stop…I passed out again. 

"When I came back around he was sitting on top of a crate, just waiting for me to wake up. When he knew I was awake he started to talk. He told me that if I hated him so much, I would have shorted out the collar. Because I didn't, that meant that I must have wanted this. He told me he thought that I'd gotten a taste of real pain from Bastion, and I must have liked it because here I was begging for more. He told me I didn't deserve to marry you; that if I searched my heart I would know you deserved better than a whore who couldn't keep her legs closed."

                Logan hugged her. "Yer not a whore, Jubes," he said hoarsely. 

                She clenched her fist. "I know. I knew it back then too. But Creed brainwashed me, he made me believe it. He kept calling me a whore, a slut, a tramp, for several days straight. That first night, after he finished hurting me…he wasn't really finished, he just stopped because I lost my voice from screaming. He didn't get as much satisfaction from hurting me when I couldn't scream. So he tied me up with more damn rope and stuffed me in the wooden crate wrapped up in a blanket. Then he sat beside it, whispering to me all the time about what a whore I was." She was silent for a moment. "It was hard, lying there in agony with those ugly words pouring into my ear. After a few days I think I actually began to believe it a little."

                A soft sigh. "The fourth day he took me out of the crate and tied me down over it. I was raw and sore, and I would have done almost anything to escape being raped again. He picked up a broken broom handle, and threatened to shove it into my body if I didn't tell him I was a whore. I refused, and he carried out his threat." Her voice dropped again, so low Logan had to strain to hear it. "I screamed. He kept saying, 'Say it, and I'll stop! Say it!' So finally I did. I said it. I screamed it, because I was hurting so badly and I wanted the pain to stop. I was weak. I broke." She gave a soft sob. "He stopped forcing the stick inside me, but he didn't take it out. He got on top of me, and then he…he stuffed himself into my backside and raped me there as I screamed the hateful words and begged him to stop. Oh, God, Logan, I've never felt such pain in my life! He didn't stop until he came, and he slid out of me, and then he grabbed the stick. He twisted it inside me, and a splinter broke off inside me and stayed in there while he ripped the rest of it out. I started bleeding really, really bad. He stopped and put me back in the crate." She was crying now, silent tears of remembered pain, and Logan held her and cried with her.

                "When he took me back out the first thing I said was 'I'm a dirty whore and Logan doesn't deserve me.' He just smiled. He handcuffed me and hung me from the hook again, and then he sank his teeth deep into my hip and ripped the flesh right off me. His teeth scraped my bone, and I screamed. I don't remember much after that; I think I went numb. I did what he told me to. I said what he wanted me to say. He told me to beg him to 'screw me in the ass' and I said it. He obliged. For two more days he did that. At the end of that time, I was just a piece of meat, just going through the motions, a robot who couldn't feel or think anymore. I figured my life was over. Even if I somehow managed to survive, I figured that you wouldn't want me. As ugly as I looked now, all bloody and scarred and brutalized, when you could have anyone else out there. They weren't pain-loving sluts. Then I saw you on the bridge, and I figured you would take one look at me and you'd be so repulsed by how I looked you'd walk away and I'd never see you again.

                "Then you said you loved me, and I heard the sincerity in your voice. You really did love me, even though Sabretooth had ruined my body. And when you started fighting for me, I knew it was true. You loved me, no matter what had happened, or where I'd been, or who had raped me, or what I looked like now. And when he was on top of you, and he was going to kill you, I snapped out of my numbness, and I knew I had to stop him if it was the last thing I did. So I threw myself at him, and knocked both of us off the bridge. Logan, I saw him reaching for your hand, and I thought he was going to pull you down with us. There was no way I could hang on and save all three of us. So I did the only thing I could think of; I let go." She turned to him, and he saw the desperation in her eyes. "I love you; I wanted to be saved so we could go home together. But I knew I couldn't hang on to that beam to save all of us; we'd all die; of you would drag Creed down with you, and you both would die, leaving me alive. I couldn't bear to see you die; I couldn't watch you disappear from my life forever. There's never been anyone in my heart but you. I may have had crushes, and flings, but I never really loved anyone but you. So to me, my life was expendable; yours wasn't. It took all the will left in me to let go; I was freezing cold, and I was in so much pain I wanted to scream; I wanted to live. But I had to save you. And the only way I could save you was to force my fingers to let go."

                Logan crushed her in his arms. "Oh, Jubilee," he whispered into her hair. "And here ya been, holdin' all that in while I was too selfish ta realize that it was my unwillin'ness ta let go o' my anger that was keepin' ya miserable. I'm so sorry, Jubilee. I knew he hurt ya; I think there was a part o' me that didn't really wanna hear 'bout it; maybe I wasn't ready. I don't wonder that ya cut yourself. 

"You know, there's a Japanese ritual that a grievin' person performs to ease emotional pain. After Mariko died, I did it. I took the sword she left me and drew it across my back; I had ta let all that pain I was feelin' out. You had so much more…Jubilee, fergive me, please, fer not bein' ready ta listen sooner."

                "Forgiven." Jubilee snuggled up against him, but he pushed her back upright. She was about to protest, but he put his finger on her lips and reached over to the dresser, picked up his wedding band and slipped it back on his finger. Her smile made the sun look pale.

                He picked up the hairbrush and started brushing again.

*                                                              *                                                              *

                Logan sat in the center of the wooded clearing, the sheathed sword in his lap. He'd gotten up early this morning while Jubilee was still asleep, picked up the sword that he considered his most precious possession, and escaped outdoors. He had some thinking to do.

                Chuck had been right. He hadn't fully let go of all the anger and hatred and rage he'd felt toward Creed after Jubilee had 'died'.  It had stayed inside him, festering like an opened wound. His burst of verbal rage, while modest compared to anyone else's show of temper, nevertheless worked for him and he'd been able to empty himself, to become a receptacle for Jubilee's pain and misery. 

                She might have forgiven him, without a murmur, without batting an eyelash, but he couldn't forgive himself for putting her through all these months of anguish. By selfishly holding onto his anger, he'd put off her ability to heal her soul. He'd never once stopped to think that her inability to talk to him was due to his own inability to listen.

                He'd never been a religious person, but he felt like he needed to apologize to Someone. He tilted his head back, studied the sunlight filtering down through the green canopy of leaves overhead, and then said softly, "It was my fault. And I am sorry. Jubilee fergave me, but it's gonna be a while 'fore I can fergive myself."

                He dropped his gaze to the sword in his lap. He laid a hand on the hilt, drew it in one smooth, fluid motion. It whispered out of its sheath, and sunlight glinted off the finely polished silver blade. Jubilee had bought him a set of sharpening and polishing stones for the sword the last time she was in Japan; he had spent hours cleaning, sharpening, and polishing the sword that was his souvenir of Mariko. He raised the sword over his head with one smooth movement and drew the blade diagonally across his back. The sword's edge was so sharp he didn't feel the slice until it began to bleed.

                There was a soft cry from behind him, and then small hands touched the deep cut on his back. He knew who it was before he even turned around; Jubilee. "Thought ya were asleep," he said softly.

                Jubilee was crying. "Logan, please don't hurt yourself," she said, her voice catching in her throat. He felt a sting as his healing factor started to fix the cut on his back; irrationally, he suddenly wished his healing factor wouldn't heal this one; he wanted a reminder that his stubbornness had cost the girl he loved so much emotional misery. She came around to face him, and he saw tears on her face. "I forgave you," she said. "Why did you do this?"

                "'Cause I'm mournin' someone I loved very much. I'm mournin' the little firecracker I knew before Creed got his claws in ya," he said gently, releasing the sword's hilt to brush away her tears. "I needed to do this, Jubes."

                She looked at the sword on his lap, studied the blood that still stained the blade. "It's a lovely sword," she said. Logan didn't even have time to react as she swept it off his lap and drew the blade diagonally across the inside of her left arm. Her blood welled up, and mingled with his on the blade. "I'm mourning for me and for you," she said. "For the girl I was before everything happened; and for you, for the part of you that died when you thought I was dead. I may be here, but the memory can't be erased, and you'll never be the same." She showed him the blade, ignoring the bleeding slash on her arm. "Will this work?"

                Surprised that she understood, he nodded. She sat down beside him on the grass. "Jubes, go in," he said. "Ya need ta get that slash looked at."

                She shook her head. "I'm not going in until you do," she said firmly.

                Logan picked up a square of silk, and used it to wipe the blade off. It was already stained with his own blood. He'd used it to clean his blood off the blade after the last time he'd used it, after Mariko's death. He'd washed it several times, but the stains never came all the way out. Now fresh red stains bloomed over the silk. He wouldn't wash it this time. Jubilee's and his blood were mixed on it, and was therefore now sacred to him. He sheathed the sword and stood up, giving Jubilee a hand up off the grass. "This's the end o' the bloodlettin', then?"

                "Yeah," Jubilee gave a crooked smile as she regarded the cut on her arm. "You know, I think I'll have the surgeon leave this scar alone. This is one I want to carry."

                Logan studied it with the eye of one who had seen a lot of wounds. "It won't be a bad one," he said. "Be barely noticeable when it fades. The blade's pretty sharp." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they began to walk out of the woods. 

                Jubilee went to the medlab as soon as they got in. Logan went upstairs to store the sword in its box, but before he went back downstairs, he slipped the square of cloth into a small metal box that held mementos of his life. He'd keep it till the day he died.


End file.
